


200 Prompts

by GordandV



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Characters in Author's Note, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Ensemble Cast, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 65
Words: 45,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23268322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GordandV/pseuds/GordandV
Summary: A collection of 200 writing prompts. Each chapter is unrelated and stand alone. Updates every Sunday & Thursday.
Relationships: Various Relationships
Comments: 65
Kudos: 127





	1. Lazy Day

**Author's Note:**

> What is your favorite way to spend a lazy day? 
> 
> No warnings apply. Featuring Dick.

Lazy days are never exactly on Dick’s schedule. There’s always something to do, someone to see, places to be. He’s gotten better at taking breaks as he’s gotten older, but whole days dedicated to nothing? Not on his watch. On occasion he does let himself sleep in, especially after a long night.

It’s nice to wake up to his body saying it’s time instead of an alarm deciding that for him. The pillow under his cheek is cool as he shifts his head enough to squint at the clock on the bedside table that reads 11:18. Judging by the amount of light in his room he hasn’t somehow slept for over 12 hours and it’s still technically morning. A quick bit of math says he’s been asleep for over 8 hours and that makes Dick smile. It was a good 8 hours, a rare night of waking up maybe just once or twice to roll over and nothing more. Those types of nights are rather few and far between as on average he wakes up closer to five to six times a night.

It’s the perfect way to start Dick’s day, being well-rested. He nuzzles into his pillow and lets his eyes shut again while his toes gently curl. He cycles through extending them out as far out as possible, then curl down as tightly as could be. Eventually both feet are pointing and flexing under the blankets to a silent beat to give his legs a gentle wakeup. When he does move it’s not far, just to the bathroom. The cold water does a good job at jolting him awake and out of his daze.

“What to do first,” Dick mutters as he shoves his feet into slippers and heads out to the kitchen. While part of him desperately wants to start his day with last night’s dinner of fried shrimp and spaghetti, he knows in the long run saving that for dinner will make his life easier. Cereal and a small protein shake suit him just fine, and there’s even a pretty green apple to mix things up a bit. Just to really feel like he’s doing something special he curls up into one corner of the couch with his breakfast and watches cartoons for a full hour before moving again.


	2. Something going on that was wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever spoken up when you saw something going on that was wrong? Were you scared? What ended up happening?
> 
> Warnings: implied canoodling, Jason's mouth. 
> 
> Featuring Jason, Bruce, and a mystery partner.

Jason freezes mid-step and he looks ahead to the decontamination shower that doubles as a really nice normal shower as he spies two silhouettes behind the fogged glass. All plans of basking in the shower and it’s dozen or so jets after a hellishly cold patrol going flying out his head because the two shapes inside are definitely not Bruce and Selina. The trail of armor and clothing is mostly Batman, but there’s a couple bracers and guards that are black and Nightwing blue. That familiar bird symbol itself is half-hidden under a crumple of spandex just outside as Jason approaches with caution. One person is certainly Bruce, there’s no doubt about it. The other figure is definitely male, broad shoulders that cut down to a narrow waist, but there’s enough steam to give nothing else away. It is most likely Dick, judging by the uniform.

Before Jason can announce himself the figure that he assumes is Dick backs Bruce to the glass door and a number of things happen in quick succession. The steam smears away as Bruce slides sideways and Jason gets a terrible eyeful of nothing but skin. At the same time he regrets not simply using the slightly not as good but still utterly luxurious shower upstairs in the Manor proper as Bruce turns around and actually slams the other body back where he just was. It’s Dick, Jason knows for sure now, can tell by the hair and the unique scattering of scars across the tops of his incredibly defined acrobat shoulder blades, but those are definitely not Dick’s hands that make an appearance at the top of the back of his thighs. No, those are Bruce’s hands on Dick’s legs, his very naked, very toned legs.

“Oh fuck me,” Jason whispers under his breath as his stares. Despite the steam the body print gives enough clarity to watch Bruce’s fingers dig into Dick’s thighs as Dick’s legs go up to disappear and presumably settle around Bruce’s waist. It looks like Dick gets pushed harder against the glass and Jason catches a glimpse of Bruce’s face as it tucks into the side of Dick’s neck. The press of skin down Dick’s back lessens when he arches away while his head goes sideways, away from Bruce. Only Dick’s shoulders and above remain against the glass in what is probably a breathtaking bend before he and Bruce disappear away from the door and into the blanket of steam.

Jason stares at the empty space then growls with flushed cheeks. He storms to the door and pounds on it with one fist as the other hand fumbles to keep up his loosened pants. Part of him just wants to yank the door open to yell for answers, but he certainly does not want to see anything more than what he’s already been subjected to.

“What the hell are you two doing?” he roars. He hears what sounds like a yelp from inside and stumbles back when the door gets thrown open. Bruce and Dick come tumbling out, Bruce pinning Dick down by his wrists and both landing with a huff. There’s a pause as Jason stares at the two, both indeed naked and wet as could be.

When Bruce looks up it’s only to snarl, “Get the antidote for the sex pollen, he’s too far gone. Dick, _stop it_.”

Dick whines from under Bruce, flushed from his face to down his chest as his tosses his head back. The whole line of his throat gets exposed in the movement as he writhes. “I. Can’t.”

Jason blinks and inhales. “Wait, what?”

“I said get the antidote, now!”

Wow, that voice sends Jason back to when he was just starting the green shorts and royally pissing off Bruce. When Jason gets to the cave and where the stockpile of antidotes are kept he realizes that he didn’t just come across the two and a secret relationship. Dick’s been dosed with some type of pollen and it isn’t uncommon to try rinsing off the victim to see if that alleviates any symptoms before going for the injectables.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter- what is your favorite work of art? What do you love about it?


	3. Favorite Work of Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is your favorite work of art? What do you love about it?
> 
> No warnings, featuring Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Damian.

Bruce reaches to the card pile and picks up the topmost one. His brows draw together as his boys watch him with various degrees of expectation. Dick, as he had for the entire game, still looks the most excited and invested. Jason looks intrigued, but not overly committed, and could likely be bribed away with the promise of food or a drink. Damian’s face is cautious, the type of expectation that was like accepting a gift from the Joker: you wanted to know what it was, even though you knew it would hurt you.

“What is your favorite work of art?” Bruce reads off the card. He puts the card down on the table, frowns deeper, then repeats the question again.

“I’m never going to get this,” Jason moans as he leans his cheek into his fist. “I’m an English nerd, not an art buff. I don’t know shit about art.”

“Favorite work of art,” Bruce whispers once more as he looks at Damian, Dick, then Jason before writing his answer down on a notecard. As always he’s careful to keep the writing away from the three’s observant gazes and puts the card facedown in front of himself. One hand reaches to the plastic hourglass filled with sand that will give the boys approximately 30 seconds to write down their guess of what Bruce wrote down. When the sand stops falling Dick immediately turns his paper around.

“Picasso,” Dick says eagerly. “Because Bruce knows as much about art as I do!”

“That’s an artist, not a work of art,” Jason snaps, but then he looks doubtful as Bruce smiles sweetly. “You dumbfuck, did you put Picasso down?”

“Jason, what’d you think I put?” Bruce asks instead as Jason huffs and reveals his answer looking a little shy.

“Mona Lisa,” he mumbles to his chest. “I…couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Amateurs,” hisses Damian as he shoves his paper out for Bruce’s inspection and Bruce can’t help but snort just a bit at his youngest’s response.

“I do like Van Gough’s _The Starry Night_ , but it’s not my favorite,” he says.

Jason slams a flat palm onto the table and shakes the glasses. “A first grader could have come up with that answer, Gremlin.”

“At least I gave Father the credit of taste,” replies Damian. Bruce coughs a bit as Dick giggles against his own hand while the other two settle.

“None of you are right,” starts Bruce which makes the trio groan in disappointment. It’s a child’s game to prove how well you know someone, and unsurprisingly Dick has been winning the whole time. He is, in Jason’s words, a well of worthless information about other’s peoples preferences. However any time he gets something wrong Jason is sure to rub it in. This round Jason doesn’t say a word as Bruce flips over his answer that reads “Damian.”

“Damian?” Jason and Dick say together while the boy in question frowns.

“Me?”

Bruce leans over to get Damian into a one-armed hug with a massive grin. “You’re my favorite work of art; I helped make you, after all.”

It takes a second before Dick starts cooing at how cute and perfect that answer is and how he _totally_ should have known while Jason collapses onto the table with his arms over his head.

“That’s cheating. Somehow that is cheating.”

“It’s not cheating,” Bruce hums as he gives another squeeze then releases Damian who seems stunned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Write a diary entry, dated 10 years in the future


	4. Diary Entry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write a diary entry, dated 10 years in the future
> 
> Self-indulgent Damian/Jon.

Damian groans quietly and shoves his face deeper between Jon’s shoulder blades as Dick’s voice floats into the barn. It’s definitely far too early to be getting up considering Damian is on vacation, a fact he will impress upon Dick as he hears the older man whistle merrily as he ascends up the ladder to the hayloft.

“Rise and shine love birds,” Dick calls as he stops almost all the way up to peek over the edge. “If you’re not decent cover up!”

The hayloft is rented by another farmer who uses the extra space for any surplus of hay. One bundle of hay is untied and spread out across the rafters where a thick nest of blankets rests like a colorful blot of chaos. Dick hears Damian groan and some of the blankets shift a bit. It’s enough a sign that Dick finishes climbing the ladder and actually skips over to the pair. While he and Damian are both on mandated vacation time, he doesn’t get the benefit of having a long-term partner to snuggle at night, nevertheless on the picturesque Kent farm. He’s only a little envious, and mostly happy he gets to tease Damian endlessly. Damian and Jon have been together for almost two years, but a private two years. Dick’s barely seen them hold hands, nevertheless spooned together. It was a close thing he hadn’t choked when the two had bid him goodnight and saying they were going to sleep in the hayloft the night before. He wishes he brought his phone for a picture as he watches Jon’s face scrunch up in displeasure with Damian’s face hidden.

“What happened to sleeping in?” Jon whines.

“I am on vacation,” Damian says, voice muffled until he leans his head back, eyes refusing to open. “I am allowed to sleep in on vacation.”

“Yes, but it’s almost 11 in the morning and Martha sent me to see if you two want breakfast or lunch.”

“Gram did not, she’d just save us leftovers,” Jon huffs, carefully rolling over and blindly recaching for Damian. He pulls Damian into his chest and both groan when Dick grabs the blankets at their feet and pulls it.

“Okay, so I just wanted to see you two be adorable,” Dick answers truthfully, taking in the fact that were wearing t-shirts. “You’re like, the most anti-PDA couple ever.”

“Discretion, Grayson,” Damian growls, hand striking out and grabbing the blankets. The blankets get yanked back up and over their heads.

Dick clucks and stands at the foot of their nest before climbing onto it like a big uncoordinated cat seeking affection. He ignores their protests as he worms between them. “You two are so cute.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Give your city (or town or region) a new name that reflects what type of place it is, and explain why you chose that name.


	5. Name a City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give your city (or town or region) a new name that reflects what type of place it is, and explain why you chose that name.
> 
> No warnings, featuring Bruce and Dick.

Nightwing’s presence on the Watchtower is not a common occurrence. Even less common is Nightwing sprinting from the zeta transport upon arrival without so much as a hello. There’s no sirens or alarms or situations that anyone is aware of, but it still puts anyone who sees him on edge as he rushes by. When he arrives at the med-bay entrance he finds Wonder Woman waiting for him. The expression on her face is hard to place as she nods her head to one side then starts to walk.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” she says in lieu of a greeting. “We are…unsure of how to handle the situation.”

“You said Batman was strung out on some alien drug and needed someone familiar to him,” Nightwing replies breathlessly, heart still hammering. “Don’t be surprised if you get the rest of us Gotham Bats in the next few minutes when they respond to that call.”

The room that Wonder Woman goes up to is windowless which Nightwing finds odd until he actually enters. There’s a simple bed with metal railings and Batman smack in the middle of it sitting cross-legged. Pieces of armor are scattered about on the mattress and on the floor. The cape and cowl are neatly hung up on what looks like an actual wooden coat post on the wall. Superman’s standing farther into the room with folded arms and an uncomfortable look on his face. He seems to be looking at Batman who has a fork in front of one eye.

“Um, B?” Nightwing calls, slowly his pace.

He gets a dismissive hand wave from Batman who doesn’t so much as turn. “Quiet, I’m keeping Superman in jail.”

Nightwing gapes and slowly turns to Wonder Woman who shrugs a bit. “Both Hal and John confirm this drug is harmless and will leave his system in a few hours. The best course of treatment is to keep him calm and happy.”

“Right.” Nightwing shakes his head and removes his mask, setting it on the edge of the bed. That gets Batman to look at him and for a moment Nightwing doesn’t think Batman recognizes him. It’s hard to tell if it’s drug related or the fact that Batman is still looking through the fork.

“It’s Dick, you remember me?” asks Nightwing gently as he eases himself onto the corner of the bed.

“Of course I know who you are,” huffs Batman. “But why you’ve landed yourself in jail is another matter entirely. You weren’t careful, were you?”

Dick tries to smile as he reaches out and pushes down on Bruce’s arm that holds the fork. “I’m not really in jail.”

It seems Dick is exactly what Bruce needs. Bruce loses all interest in anyone else as he talks with Dick who, Wonder Woman notes, is perfectly capable of carrying on the other side of whatever conversation Bruce started.

“It really shouldn’t be called the Watchtower,” Bruce snarls, curled over a massive pillow as Dick rubs his back and tries to keep him from throwing some type of fit. Apparently the drug can cause bouts of aggression and no one wants to see that.

“We could rename it,” Dick soothes, looking at Superman who’s sitting in the corner of the room, their silent orderly. There’s an empty stack of pizza boxes next to him. “What should we call it?”

“The Eye in the Sky is more appropriate,” Bruce says lowly, hunching over ever further. “The Watchtower suggests we only observe. It’s boring. Pedestrian. The Eye in the Sky correctly assumes we watch from above but from a literary standpoint the connotation of being a stronger, overreaching force is implied. People shouldn’t be afraid, but they should be wary. It’s perfect.”

“Wow, yeah, that’s perfect,” Dick laughs as he looks at Superman who looks downright alarmed. “I’ll see if J’onn can start the paperwork, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Write about something presently in your life that is “worth it.”


	6. Worth It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write about something presently in your life that is “worth it.”
> 
> No warnings, featuring Jason and Dick.

“Oh my god this is so worth it,” Dick moans around a forkful of cheesy, meaty pasta, sounding mildly pornographic as he goes to town. His Nightwing suit is unzipped and open down to his waist with nothing underneath it. His skin is molted in various welts and numerous bruises in various stages of healing, including a collection of new bruises along the left side of his ribcage. Jason leans against the counter and folds his arms, openly staring at the scene.

He doesn’t see Nightwing after a good, hard night of a patrol: he sees Dick Grayson getting his end of the bargain, namely Jason’s home cooking. It always feels good to watch someone enjoy Jason’s cooking, but there’s something wonderfully innocent and genuine about how Dick can’t eat fast enough. People can lie about anything, but it’s hard to lie when it comes to food.

“Seriously, this is so good,” chokes Dick between bites, looking up briefly then returning to his meal. It’s obvious manners are the farthest thing from his mind with his elbows on the table, arms sort of boxed around his dinner bowl, back hunched over. His faces is inches over the bowl as he shovels spoonful after spoonful.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jason teases softly. “Not too spicy for you?”

“Perfect spicy, you don’t even know.”

Jason tips his head a bit then grabs his bowl. He serves himself then plops down across from Dick, eating much more sedately. It’s some Italian dish he picked up from Alfred years if not decades ago, simple if time-consuming. It makes a lot, and for a single guy who seldom ever has company makes for great leftovers. Jason’s not convinced there will be much left though, not when Dick scraps his bowl clean and goes for seconds.

“So worth it,” Dick says on an exhale. Jason can’t help but smile with pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- You are the wind’s interpreter. What is it saying?


	7. Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are the wind’s interpreter. What is it saying?
> 
> No warnings, featuring Superman, Batman, and J'onn/Martian Manhunter.

“This is stupid. I would be better-”

“Batman, please.”

J’onn’s voice is sharper than normal, but not without sympathy as he, Batman, and Superman stand atop Wayne Tower at close to midnight. Gotham below is lit up, and from a distance it’s nice. There’s nothing but clean air up that high without the normal choked smells as cars crawl about like tiny glowing ants below. It’s quiet and peaceful despite the mounting tension.

“We all agreed to try this,” J’onn says slowly, as if he needs to remind Batman why they’re there.

“And I did not agree to-” Batman begins before Superman sighs loudly and side-eyes him.

“We know you didn’t agree. We know you don’t actively agree either. It doesn’t matter: we’re here, and we’re trying this. So stop bellyaching, sit down, and shut up.”

J’onn doesn’t say a word as he sits himself on the edge of the building and lets his legs swing. He looks happy as could be. Batman glares at him with clenched hands even as Superman nudges him. “B, come on.”

“This is stupid,” Batman hisses as he sits himself down with more force than necessary. The armor plates grate against the concrete as he shifts until he mirrors J’onn. Superman joins them by floating down then pointing into the smoggy, cloudy sky.

“Step one: pick a spot and stare at it. Try to let your mind go blank.”

“Impossible,” mutters Batman, letting himself lean back as Superman pushes against his shoulder.

“For you? Yes. Just try to just think…less.”

Batman huffs but tilts his head upwards. He squints a bit and thinks about the sting operation he has planned with Red Hood and Red Robin next week. For a few minutes there’s silence, and then Superman starts to speak softly.

“Some nights, when I can’t get my mind to stop, I like to pretend the wind is speaking to me.”

“Oh my god, Superman.”

“Batman,” snaps J’onn.

Superman chuckles a bit. “No, it’s okay, even I know it sounds a little crazy. Just listen to the wind for a little bit, then tell us what you think the wind is saying.”

“I’ve never tried this before,” J’onn admits, sounding intrigued. “I like finding shapes in clouds so I think I will like this.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Give it a try. I’ll start when I’m ready,” Superman says quickly before J’onn can sound like a disappointed parent. Superman’s only the second Leaguer to try their hand at getting Batman to relax with their own favorite way to unwind: he isn’t exactly surprised Batman’s resistant to his suggestion.

Luckily it’s a nice night with a good breeze. Superman doesn’t wait very long before he starts his tale from the wind. It’s simple and short, about a woman grocery shopping but getting distracted by a dog and following it for a few blocks. J’onn’s story is much different from a wind from the west with its deserts and ravines and vast stretches of empty land.

“The wind isn’t saying anything because it’s wind,” Batman whispers. “However my comm is saying there’s a robbery in progress over on 8th.”

With that he gets up and waits until the other two stand.

“I tried,” Superman sighs before offering an arm to Batman who takes it.

“You did,” J’onn agrees before he shoots Batman a downright dirty look. “It seems Batman will need a repeat lesson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next-Come up with a mathematical formula to express something you know/believe.


	8. Mathematical Formula

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come up with a mathematical formula to express something you know/believe.   
> (Example: Long Saturday run + Frappucino= Happiness)
> 
> Warning: Red Hood's mouth, featuring Red Robin, Red Hood, and Batman

“This is a recipe for disaster,” Red Robin groans with hands over his face while Red Hood cackles nearby, loading rubber bullets into his guns.

“This is going to be great,” Red Hood rebukes gleefully. “Me plus weapons times scaring the absolute shit out of this wanna-be gang equals a damn good night."

Red Robin sighs deeper. “You plus weapons equals disaster. I have a list a mile long of examples, if you want.”

It’s a simple plan: put the fear of Gotham into the not-even-really-a-gang to ensure that no other misguided kids or bored teenagers get roped in the petty crimes which just recently escalated. It put one person in the hospital. Not all hands will be on deck, just Batman, Red Robin, and Red Hood, which Batman assures is enough to scare the dozen or so youths back onto the straight and narrow.

“I am going to have so much fun,” Red Hood laughs as he reaches down to what looks like a small bazooka. Red Robin’s eyebrows hitch to his hairline under the cowl.

“Um, did Batman not tell you we need these kids in one piece?” he asks, stunned.

“Relax, it’s just a flash-bang on steroids. Nothing lethal about it.”

The wait in silence until Batman arrives. He confirms that they’re there only there to frighten the kids and nothing more. Red Robin is glad to hear Batman’s voice lend itself to a hint of doubt when he says Red Hood is clear to start their little mission.

“Me plus this little fucker equals those kids shitting themselves,” Red Hood announces as he braces one foot up on the rooftop ledge and aims towards the dilapidated warehouse across the way. A couple seconds later the area lights up a brilliant, blinding white, giving the trio time to make their entrance. The screaming turns shriller when those inside the warehouse get their sight back to see three of Gotham’s most feared vigilantes suddenly within spitting distance.

Red Hood has both guns out and fingers on the triggers as he stares down the nearest kid. “You think just because you break a few laws you’re a gang? You guys ain’t nothing but an afterschool club.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Name one thing you have lied to yourself about. Why did you do this?


	9. Lied to Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name one thing you have lied to yourself about. Why did you do this?
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Implied non-con/rape
> 
> Featuring Bruce, Dick

For as much as Bruce is a good CEO of Wayne Enterprises sometimes the finer details slip his mind. He knows there’s some type of mandatory company-wide seminar which is why he’s a part of the giant herd of people heading down to the biggest conference hall in the building. There’ll be a number of sessions going on that day and the rest of the week, but of course he’s elected to join the first session as he leans up against one wall and declines sitting. Those around him chit-chat and make generic small talk until the presenter up front starts to call for attention. The conference room goes quiet and the lights dim just in time for the television monitor to light up with the first slide of the presentation.

Bruce feels his stomach drop as he reads the black font, “Sexual Harassment in the Workplace.” He suddenly understands why no one was talking about the seminar beforehand as his palms begin to sweat. As the woman up front keeps speaking he leans over to the man in HR who he knows set up the seminar in the first place.

“Did we have an uptake in harassment lately?” he asks lowly, because that’s the only reason he can think of why he’d approve and personally attend such a seminar. He tries not to let his thoughts wander to a night many years ago that he doesn’t really remember.

“No, but legal thought it would be a good idea,” comes the equally hushed reply. “There’s be so many incidents across the country lately it was agreed it couldn’t hurt, and Ms. Doe comes so highly recommended.”

Bruce tries to hum back but his throat feels tight. He folds his arms tightly across his chest and determinedly focuses on the woman’s voice. He does not think about Talia, does not think about drinking what he had thought was some slightly bitter, exotic wine. His nails dig into his suit jacket and deeper as he tries to keep himself calm and in control. He tells himself that he had drunk too much and that is why he doesn’t remember much of that night. Then he realizes that’s making him sound like he was black out drunk instead of drugged and he can’t decide which he hates more.

For what seems like a couple minutes he wrestles back and forth with himself, waging lies versus the truth. Part of him wants to believe that single glass of wine had done him in while another part is vehement that he was many things but a drinker was not one of them. Both options still end in the same result that Bruce does not want to admit to himself. But no, he _did_ love the result because that night gave him Damian, his youngest boy, that baby of family as Dick likes to tease. He loves Damian with every fiber of his being, would never give that child up for anything, but a dark little voice says Damian might never have come to be if Bruce had even been given a choice instead of forced into one.

When someone touches him gently on the arm he actually jumps. He narrowly catches himself as he finds himself reaching to snap the woman’s wrist. He freezes mid-movement and tries to remember where he is and what he’s supposed to be doing. Perhaps most importantly he needs to figure out why he feels so panicked. There’s an empty conference room and three other people nearby. They look concerned.

“Mr. Wayne, you with us?” the woman asks softly. He doesn’t recognize her, but he does recognize the head of security and his secretary. But wait, does he recognize this other woman? He stares at her carefully and she smiles just a bit. There’s something about her that’s familiar and then it feels like getting hit by a train. She’s the presenter, for the seminar. She’ll be here all week at Wayne Enterprises. He’s supposed to have lunch with her twice that week.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce starts because he doesn’t remember a second of her presentation before he feels something tickle over his cheeks. He reaches up instinctively with the side of his hand and finds tears.

“Think you can sit down?” the woman asks, and Bruce remembers her name is Ms. Jennie Doe. The head of security steps aside and rolls a chair over a few inches. Sitting down actually does sound like a good idea and Bruce collapses down onto the chair not a moment too soon. He props his elbow onto the armrest and lets his forehead sink against the bottom of his fist. He feels exhausted, wrung-out like an overused dishtowel.

“Dick’s on his way, Bruce,” he hears his secretary say, sounding nervous. “Everything will be alright.”

Bruce doesn’t bother to nod or acknowledge her words. There’s too much but also too little going on in his head as his thoughts jump about wildly without making any sort of meaningful connections. It isn’t until there are relieved sighs as Dick enters the conference room at a full sprint that Bruce looks up. Dick’s in full Blüdhaven P.D. uniform, and Bruce can’t help but think his first little boy grew up too fast. He looks so mature in that uniform.

“Hey Bruce, it’s Dick,” Dick greets lowly as he immediately kneels down in front of Bruce, hands hovering over Bruce’s legs likes he wants to touch. “You remember me?”

“Of course I remember you,” Bruce replies, voice rough as he reaches out and grabs one of Dick’s hands. “You came from work?” He squeezes and it feels good to have something against his skin, something real that isn’t just the phantom claws of his own mind.

“Yeah, I did. I got a call that this seminar might have made you a little uncomfortable?”

Bruce tries to laugh because there is no way he is discussing this with Dick, nevertheless at work. The way Dick’s face pinches up further tells him he’s failed at pretending he’s alright. He says anyways, “No, no I’m just tired today.”

Dick bites his lip briefly then nods, reaching into a pocket. His hand comes back out with a wad of tissues that blot gently against Bruce’s cheeks. He never looks away from Bruce as he asks, “Think you could give us a few minutes alone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next-What did you get into trouble for the most when you were a kid?


	10. Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you get into trouble for the most when you were a kid?
> 
> Warning: Food related behaviors/issues.
> 
> Featuring Jason, Bruce, and Dick

Jason tries not to squirm on the wooden chair as Alfred breezes over from the kitchen island with a plate and a glass of milk. There’s the tallest sandwich Jason’s ever seen in his life and he doesn’t realize how wide and surprised his eyes have gone until Alfred coughs a bit as he sets a near identical if larger set of food and glass in front of Bruce. The newspaper gets folded down and Bruce smiles at Jason as the boy sits more forward.

“It’ll fit,” Bruce assures, pushing down on the top piece of bread and compressing everything beneath. Jason mimics the actions while Alfred quietly goes about cleaning up. It’s the second meal where they’re trying to get Jason to slow down by having him pace himself against someone else. For the first time in Alfred can’t even remember Jason hadn’t vomited or complained about stomach pains after breakfast that had spanned for a full hour. There’s hope that lunch will go the same way as Bruce finagles the sandwich between his hands, always waiting for Jason to catch up before taking a bite.

“This is really good,” Bruce comments as he reaches up to push a wayward piece of lettuce into the corner of his mouth before setting the sandwich back down. His fingertips brush together as he frees himself of crumbs while he chews, eyes never leaving Jason.

Jason is a spitfire soul with a body forged in the horrors of Gotham’s alleys. It’s obvious he wants nothing except to scoff the sandwich down as quick as possible as his empty hands twitch around air as he looks at Bruce with a frown. He swallows fast and looks around the kitchen with a wary gaze, like some stranger will swoop in and steal his food. Even Alfred gets a somewhat distrustful look when he sits down with them and a bowl of leftover soup.

“I’m hungry,” Jason whines, fingernails scratching over the edge of the plate plate when Bruce takes his time chewing.

“I know, we’re eating right now though,” Bruce replies. “We don’t want you making yourself sick.” However he does go for two bites the next time because it hurts too much to hear this kid complain about an empty stomach.

“Hey, Bruce, I didn’t see lemon so I grabbed you a cherry,” Dick says as he sets a can of soda down by Bruce’s elbow. “Jason I- how are you halfway done already?”

The kitchen table quiets down as everyone looks over at Jason who’s hunched over a bowl of pasta, meatballs, and sauce. One arm curls around the front of the bowl protectively and tugs it closer to his body. It looks exactly like Jason would do his first days in the manor, when he didn’t trust anyone near him or his food despite reassurances that he could have as much as he wanted.

“Do you eve breathe?” he asks as Jason’s eyes narrow.

“I’m just hungry, leave me alone.”

“I’m hungry too, that doesn’t mean I’ll inhale this,” huffs Dick as he sets another can down by Jason’s elbow. “You’re going to choke.”

“Dick,” warns Bruce, hoping to stop the situation though he has a sinking feeling it’s already too late.

Dick rolls his eyes and flops down onto his chair before twisting his legs into some position that doesn’t look at all comfortable. He sets on elbow onto the table and props his cheek on his head; every inch of him screams confrontational. He’s been moody for days and no one can pin down why their normal ball of sunshine has been such a raincloud. Lately it’s been rubbing Jason the wrong way too and Bruce has been waiting for the two to have a confrontation.

“You’re always after me and my manners, why does Jason get a free pass eating like an animal?”

Because you don’t have the same complicated relationship with food like Jason does and sometimes it’s just best to let him eat like he’s ten years old and doesn’t know when he’ll next get a meal, but Bruce can’t say any of this.

“Just eat, Dick, leave Jason be.”

“It’s not fair.” Now Dick’s whining like he’s half his age as he pokes his fork around his pasta with an angry look at Jason.

“I ain’t bothering no one,” says Jason lowly but the bowl meets his shirt as he looms over it like a protective dog.

“You’re ruining my appetite eating that fast.”

“You don’t have to watch.”

Bruce can see the situation further deteriorate but doesn’t expect things to fall apart so fast as Dick snorts. “No one’s taking that away from you, you know.”

Jason actually cradles the bowl against his ribs and turns away from Dick with hunched shoulders and some lowly mumbled response. Dick grips his fork tighter and pushes one hand onto the table for balance to lean over to stab into Jason’s bowl. Bruce can’t move fast enough when Jason actually bites Dick’s wrist hard enough to draw blood which makes Dick yelp. Dick tries to pull back as his fork clatters against the side of the bowl while Jason releases, lips and teeth stained red. He looks absolutely feral as he gets up and moves away from the table with a bellow while Dick falls off his chair, clutching his arm with a wail.

“Don’t touch my food!”

“He bit me!” cries Dick as Alfred makes his appearance from all the commotion. Bruce goes for Dick first because there’s no doubt in his mind that Jason will fight anyone that comes close to him or his dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Do you prefer taking risks or having a safety net?


	11. Risks or Safety Net

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you prefer taking risks or having a safety net?
> 
> No warnings (besides ultimate absurdity). Featuring Clark, Bruce, and Dick.

Clark isn’t known for being a risk taker at the Daily Planet. He’s cautious and practical and those are two reasons why he thinks everyone is getting a kick out of his predicament. It’s always an office-wide event when the assignments to cover East Coast’s controversial Lingerie Gala go out, and for the first time in his career Clark finds his name on the rooster. When he can’t get out of it and he finds the date creeping closer he starts preparing his safety net, so to speak. The night before he’s doomed he does a test run and it does a lot to ease his anxieties. He looks ridiculous in front of his bedroom mirror, he thinks, but he also thinks he’ll actually fit in perfectly for once.

The Lingerie Gala itself is famous for two things: sex and money. Whatever the attendees wear to the front door get taken off just inside. While some clothing might be donated, most of the evening wear gets sold off for the proceeds to go to whatever charities feature that year. The rest of the night attendees get to strut about in next to nothing or slinky robes that make everyone look like a model.

For years Clark had been one of those viewers who thought it was stupid to have what was essentially a lingerie party under the premises of fundraising, yet each year he found himself tuning into whatever coverage was there. It was like watching a train wreck, seeing a woman decked out in jewelry and a mermaid gown one minute then the next appearing in very little else.

While Clark isn’t technically required to participate as press the Daily Planet had given him a fairly generous amount of what was listed as “reimbursement”. The oversized suit that Clark has never worn before gets neatly folded into the little basket along with an old watch that he’d been meaning to get rid of. It wasn’t worth much at all but was still functioning. Clark trades the new shoes that hadn’t seen the outside world for the standard pair of slippers most of the attendees would be wearing. The short-sleeved t-shirt underneath is slightly wrinkled and sits on Clark like a potato sack. His sweatpants are equally baggy, and together they make him look like he’s ready for a night at home. More importantly they should keep attention off his physical appearance, especially with so much other skin about for people to stare and comment on.

“Oh no,” Clark mutters under his breath as the general din of the party ticks up because someone extra important has arrived. It’s Bruce Wayne with his arm looped through a handsome young police officer’s; it takes another moment before Clark places the officer as Dick Grayson. Both are all smiles and laughs and they answer questions and give a few soundbites before ducking off to the line of changing rooms.

Dick remains in uniform, makes a comment that his department would kill him if he participated and he’s exclusively there to play bodyguard for Bruce who looks like he’s a couple shots of tequila in when he stumbles past the thick curtain. There’s a flurry of camera flashes and suggestive whistling as Dick hastily helps Bruce into the rest of the short robe because there’s not much else covering up Bruce underneath.

“That was almost indecent exposure,” Dick teases loud enough for everyone else to hear, but it’s his up-ticking heartbeat that catches Clark’s attention. Dick’s a bat with a heartrate that doesn’t flutter for just anything. After that it only takes a few more seconds to conclude that Bruce is actually drunk and not just pretending; no wonder Dick is nervous.

“Mr. Wayne, Mr. Grayson, mind if I get a comment or two?” Clark asks cheerily, much more forward than he normally would be. He doesn’t miss how Dick’s eyes light up or the arm around Bruce’s waist that only tightens.

“Uncle Clark,” replies Dick, sounding relieved. “Hi. Can we talk where I can hear you?”

He nods towards the edge of the glitzy ballroom that like looks like a runway show on steroids. Clark leads the way and looks back to make sure the two are following. He grabs an empty chair and spins it around for Bruce who looks somewhat dazed.

“Sit,” suggests Clark though Dick nudges Bruce until the man is down, practically boneless.

“Hello Clark, having fun?” asks Bruce slowly as Dick steps in front of Bruce with his arms in his pants pockets, staring at Clark.

“He’s a little wasted,” Dick whispers. “Like actually wasted.”

Bruce snorts. “I am not wasted, Dick.”

Clark puts one hand onto Bruce’s shoulder to keep the man from falling over sideways. “But you have been drinking.”

“Oh absolutely. Even I couldn’t get through his night stone cold sober.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Complete this thought: “I wish I had paid more attention when…”


	12. Paid More Attention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I had paid more attention when…
> 
> No warnings; featuring (confused but supportive) dad!Bruce
> 
> Relationships- Dick/Wally, Jason/Roy/Kori, and Tim/Kon

It is a very uncomfortable situation for all involved parties and Bruce really just wishes he had paid more attention when Dick had asked about bringing home boys or girls earlier that week. At the time Bruce had been on day three without sleep, three cups of coffee deep after a particularly rough patrol where half his mind had been at Wayne Enterprises and the surprise audit that he knew he’d have to personally attend to. He somewhat remembers himself saying that Dick could bring home whoever he wanted and just to let Alfred know if they were staying for dinner.

At the time it seemed like a perfectly reasonable response, but now in hindsight Bruce realizes what Dick had been suggesting as he watches the two boys in Dick’s bed hastily separate and pull up their pants. Really he shouldn’t be surprised: Dick is a teenager. Every book and internet article he’d ever read had assured him that Dick was at an age where is was totally expected that he would start “experimenting”. It doesn’t make Bruce feel any better as he keeps staring until Dick gets his pants buttoned then looks over, cheeks cherry red. His swollen lips don’t make a single noise as he gapes, though the slight bruises over his throat and neck shift when he swallows.

“Um, Bruce, you know Wally, right?” Dick says after another moment.

Bruce’s eyes narrow then shift to the horrified looking boy who is half-hiding behind Dick. “Yes.”

There’s more silence and Bruce is torn between fear and fury. Luckily Dick takes control the situation by not beating around the bush.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry over the guy thing or the making out thing.”

Now with context Bruce knows what Dick is implying. It’s so, so clear and he’s glad he’s not running on mental or physical fumes as he responds with something he’s holding onto for a while, though he never suspected he’d need it so soon.

“I am your father Dick: I will not like anyone you bring home on principle be they male, female, or other. Mr. West, care to get out of my son’s bed so we can have a chat?”

* * *

It is a very uncomfortable situation for all involved parties and Bruce really just wishes he had paid more attention when Jason had quipped that life was too short to obey society’s monogamous standards. Bruce is no stranger to threesomes or orgies but more along the lines of he’s tried it once and never had the desire to do it again. They were temporary instances, but Bruce knows just by Roy, Kori, and Jason’s glances that whatever it is they are is not just a one-night deal. He feels wrong-footed and barely resists downing the rest of his wine as he tries to think of how to salvage the situation after the comment he’s made.

“Bruce, before you make it worse, shut it,” says Jason firmly as he holds up a hand. Bruce snaps his jaw shut and watches as Jason puts one hand down over Kori’s and his other over Roy’s. He squeezes, looks at each of them, then turns forward to face Bruce. “We _are_ together, all of us.”

“That’s great,” Bruce blurts out before he can stop himself. If anything he feels worse because he wants to support Jason and any relationship his son has but he knows his confusion is clear on his face.

“We’re polyamorous,” Jason explains slowly, though he doesn’t sound angry anymore. “We’re just…a bigger family than most people are used to.”

* * *

It is a very uncomfortable situation for all involved parties and Bruce really just wishes he had paid more attention when Tim said he had a boyfriend. It would make things just a little better if the guy Tim was grinding on in the darkness of the club was just some nameless person, but of course Bruce is not that lucky. Instead he gets Oliver slapping his back enthusiastically and pointing over at the two.

“I knew that Kon guy wasn’t ‘just a friend,’” he teases over the thumping baseline. “I knew it!”

Bruce grunts out a noise and lets his hands curl into fists while Oliver sloppily leans over his shoulder and practically presses their cheeks together. It’s overly familiar and Bruce makes a mental note to cut Oliver off.

“They’re cute boyfriends, and Tim could do worse,” Oliver say quietly as Tim shifts forward, plants himself on Kon’s lap and reaches behind himself to brace on Kon’s knees. Kon looks enthralled as his hands slid up the outside of Tim’s thighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What do you look forward to every week?


	13. Every Week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you look forward to every week?
> 
> No warnings, featuring Alfred

Every week without fail Alfred looks forward to Sunday morning. Barring any extracurricular activities from the rest of the family or consequences of said activities it is the one day he allows himself to really sleep in. Saturdays he allows himself an extra hour before the alarm, but Sunday is the one day where there is no alarm set. He is a master of his own wakefulness though he seldom can stay in longer than 9:00am. On rarer mornings he’ll spend anywhere from a few minutes to over an hour fiddling with his tablet or catching up on a book before facing the day.

On Sundays Alfred most often goes down to an empty kitchen, but on occasion Bruce will beat him. Some Sundays Bruce will be awake and have a fresh pot of coffee ready with a tired smile and bruised eyes, and other times Bruce will be passed out in or around a plate of eggs and toast. Damian sometimes can be found raiding the fridge in the most colorful, ridiculous pajamas that he only wears on the weekends for no apparent reason.

This Sunday morning when Alfred’s stomach insists he can’t spend a moment longer on a new mystery novel he finds Bruce at the stovetop with a pan of scrambled eggs and Damian at the table ticking away at a crossword from the paper.

“Morning Alfred,” Bruce greets softly, almost a whisper over the sizzling of the eggs which is the only noise to be heard. “Can I deal you in?”

“That would be marvelous,” replies Alfred as he goes to the coffee pot and cabinet nearby filled with an assortment of mugs. He plucks down one of Duke’s favorites, stylized like a sudoku game that will show more numbers when heated. There’s coffee for the taking as Bruce dumps the skillet’s contents onto an awaiting plate. He then goes on to pluck toast out of the toaster and brings the collection to the table. Alfred can’t help but smile fondly as Bruce ruffles Damian’s hair with one hand.

“It’s not going anywhere, eat while it’s hot,” he chides before returning back to the stove. The skillet gets set onto the heat, Bruce applies more non-stick spray, then he goes to the fridge. “How many, Alfred?”

“Three, please.”

Alfred, however seldom a coffee drinker he is, doctors up his cup to his tastes then settles in a chair next to Damian. The two don’t say a word to each other but Damian offers what barely constitutes a smile for him. The morning is quiet, there’s sun streaming through the windows, and Alfred sighs gently. He does love his Sundays, especially the quintessential domestic ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Were you born to shine in one special way? What makes you really stand out?


	14. Born to Shine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Were you born to shine in one special way? What makes you really stand out?
> 
> No warnings, featuring Clark and Martha.

“Happy birthday, Clark!”

It’s a massive homemade birthday cake but Martha Kent looks like she’s carrying the weight of a single feather in her hands as she puts the cake down on the table without a single fumble. She goes around to Clark and stands by his arm as she reaches for the lighter that she put out earlier.

“Ma, come on,” Clark says, sounding petulant as she starts to light the candles. “I’m an adult, I don’t-”

“No one needs birthday candles, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get them anyways,” interrupts Martha firmly. When every candle winks with a tiny flame she shifts behind Clark, puts her hands on his shoulders, then does her best to sing and not make his ears bleed. Halfway through Clark reaches up and squeezes one of her hands.

“Go on, make a wish,” she coos when Clark doesn’t make a move to blow the candles out.

“I don’t have anything I want, though.”

Martha can’t help but laugh as she leans forward, curling her arms around her son. He’s grown up so much as her chin settles on top of his head. “Then wish for something you already have to last.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” she whispers, feeling Clark stiffen up. Secrets are very serious business for Martha, and Clark more than anyone else knows this. “I knew the day I found you, you would be special. I never thought I’d be blessed with such a shining star, though. You grew up so good, Clark, and every since you were about ten years old, every day on my birthday I would wish you’d always shine bright and strong. I haven’t been disappointed in over twenty years.”

“Aw, Ma, don’t say that.”

“Well it’s true, dear. So before we have to eat wax with our cake, you make a nice wish, even if it’s just to hold onto something you already have. And no cheating, mind you!”

Frost breath is considered cheating so Clark shuts his eyes, thinks about what he wants, then blows out all the candles in one big, normal breath. Martha claps a bit then Clark goes about pulling the candles out and setting them aside. The cake is delicious, his favorite flavors of course. The cake Batman had brought up to the Watchtower the day before from some apparently notorious New Jersey bakery was good, but it’s nothing compared to this.

Later Clark has no shame as he curls up against his mom on the couch with some old rerun playing on the small t.v. and a hand-knit blanket around his shoulders. Everything is homey and familiar and Clark can feel himself truly start to unwind especially when Martha starts to stroke her fingers through his hair.

“You alright?”

“It’s good to be home, Ma. And I might have eaten too much.”

“So you just sit here for a while before you go flying back to Metropolis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What stupid question have you heard someone ask (or asked yourself)?


	15. Diet Soda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What stupid question have you heard someone ask (or asked yourself)?
> 
> Light discussion of body image; featuring Dick and Jason

“Is this diet?” Dick asks seriously as he turns the can of soda around in his hands.

Jason blinks then squints as Dick holds the can out for inspection. “It says diet right on the damn can, yeah, I think it’s safe to say it’s diet.”

“Well I don’t know, maybe it’s not,” Jason hears Dick mumble before cracking the tab.

“Why are you even drinking that, anyways? Diet tastes like shit. I didn’t even know I had that in my fridge.”

It’s a lazy Saturday night before patrol and Dick has taken Jason’s offhand comment of ‘hanging out’ very seriously. After a couple weeks it has become tradition for the two to get dinner together.

“Don’t need the calories, and it tastes just fine, thank you,” Dick snips back as he sinks back into the couch and drinks. That gets Jason’s attention. He lowers his arm to properly look at Dick who looks like the epitome of laziness in sweats while they wait for pizza and salad to arrive.

“I’m sorry, did you just say you don’t need the calories? You. Who doesn’t have a shred of fat to call his own.”

For whatever reason that gets Dick to blush slightly and tuck his chin down to his chest. “I’m about to eat my weight in cheese and meat lover’s pizza.”

“Yeah, because in about another two hours we’re going to burn more calories than most people burn in a month,” Jason says, trying to not sound exasperated. “Dick, what the hell?”

“Nothing, you’re making a mountain out of a mole hole.”

Jason snorts and sets his can down on the far side of the table. He easily sits himself on Dick’s lap and holds Dick’s arms above his head by his wrists. It becomes a careful dance as Dick tries not to drop his diet soda as he fights back against Jason. His face pinches up as Jason leans over.

“Jason,” warns Dick, still squirming.

“No, you tell me what’s wrong or we both get a soda shower.”

“It’ll ruin your couch.”

“Couch was here when I moved in, ain’t mine.”

Dick huffs and tries a bit longer but in the end it’s too much effort to actually win and it’s just easier to give in. He goes lax and looks up at Jason who grins victoriously.

“Look,” huffs Dick. “I’m getting older, it won’t hurt if I’m little more careful with what I eat.”

“Bullshit, we are the lucky few who can eat whatever we want, whenever we want. If you didn’t have your night gig then maybe, but you still got your gymnastics stuff and the whole cop thing when the sun’s up. You don’t exactly live a sedentary lifestyle.”

“I know, I know.”

“What, afraid you’re gonna actually put on some weight?” teases Jason, but he watches Dick wince just a bit. Bingo. “Aw, Dick, really?” He shifts off Dick and instead crushes the other man into his side in a half-violent hug. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, and I was there when Bruce got his wisdom teeth removed and he was seven kinds of high. You won’t get fat, not unless you become a professional couch potato.”

“I know, I do.”

“So until you quit your however many jobs don’t worry about it and drink any soda you can, okay?”

“Fine, okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- When was the last time you got lost?


	16. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When was the last time you got lost?
> 
> No actual warnings, featuring Tim and (totally a creep) Ra’s Al Ghul.

The first thing Tim is aware of when he comes to is how much his head hurts. Blinking doesn’t help but it also doesn’t make it worse. There’s a pulsing across his forehead and deep into his temples as the blurry world gains focus. He’s sitting down but leaning back against something. The sun is either rising or setting over some cityscape, the blurry line of dawn or dusk. He finds himself on a rooftop, and when he turns his head he finds a brick wall behind him. That’s when he catches a look at his hands, gloves in black tatters. He hisses through his teeth as he slowly curls his finger then stops. Upon further inspection the rest of him isn’t in better shape; cuts, scrapes, burns, bruises, and Tim is betting concussion too.

“Hello, Detective.”

Tim startles at the voice and looks up to find a man slowly approaching him. He frowns as the man continues to speak. “I’m glad to see you mostly uninjured.” This man is dressed in what looks like actual robes, green and black in color. His gait is slow, unhurried, like someone approaching something and trying not to startle it away.

“I,” Tim starts before choking and coughing. He swallows, tasting ash on his tongue. If possible that action makes his head ache more and he lifts one damaged hand up to cradle one side of his face. There’s no desire to hide the pained groan that bubbles up from his lips as he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to curl his legs up. His ribs ache fiercely and his one ankle throbs. It seems like nothing on him doesn’t hurt.

“I’m hurt,” Tim whimpers, lifting his chin up to look at the man who looks rather shocked. Tim doesn’t know how he get here, what he did to get himself into such a position, but this man hasn’t done anything to hurt him and seems like he knows Tim. “Can you help me?”

“You, asking for help?” repeats the man, sounding oddly delighted as he approaches.

Tim nods a bit as hot tears slip over his cheeks. He’s tired, hurt, and doesn’t have any idea what’s going on. “I think I hit my head, I don’t know what happened.” 

“What’s your name, do you remember that?” asks the man kneeling down nearby in a flash.

“Um, Tim? I think.”

The man hums and carefully pulls one of Tim’s hands closer for inspection. “Tim, what’s your last name?”

“I, I don’t remember. Do you? You seem like you know me.”

“I know you, Timothy Drake, I’m a…friend. I haven’t seen you in a while, but I did see your accident.”

“Accident?” Tim repeats slowly as the man helps him lay flat on his back with assurances help will be there soon.

“Some very bad people where after you, Timothy. I was here to help you, and unfortunately I lost track of you in the resulting fight. I’m glad I found you though.”

The man has some type of accent but his voice is soothing. It’s the type of voice Tim knows he could fall asleep to.

“What’s your name?” Tim asks weakly while a cool hand smooths over his forehead, gentle as could be.

“Ra’s Al Ghul. Does that ring any bells?”

It does, and Tim’s first reaction is to scowl. However there’s no actual connection to the name, no memories, no nothing. He groans a bit and lets his head fall over. “No.”

“You must have some type of amnesia. Does your head hurt?”

“Terribly.”

“Just take it easy, Timothy. Help will be here soon, and we’ll get you feeling better as soon as we can.”

A couple more tears escape from Tim’s eyes, partial pain, partial relief. It’s like someone is trying to crush his skull from the inside out, but just the mere promise of something to make it better is all Tim needs.

“Thank you, Ra’s.”

“Of course. Now I have had my own share of experiences with head trauma and it’s imperative that you not sleep until you see a professional. How about I tell you a tale to pass the time?”

Tim hums weakly and lets the soothing voice wash over him. He drifts and at some point blacks out entirely. Dreams merge with snatches of reality until, finally, reality prevails.

“Timothy?”

There’s someone stroking the inside of his wrist, featherlight. It’s the most amazing thing Tim thinks he’s ever felt as he sighs. There’s the faint smell of what he thinks is lavender when he takes a deeper breath and squirms a bit. He’s on something wonderfully soft, probably a bed judging by how plush and warm he feels. Pain is a far memory, but there’s something unnatural about how good he feels.

“Timothy?”

The touch on his wrist stills and turns into a gentle pressure. It disturbs him enough to open his eyes to find that he is indeed in a bed with Ra’s on a chair nearby. Tim giggles just a bit as he tries to rub his eyes and finds that he can’t get his arm to obey.

“Hi-ya, Ra’s.”

Ra’s has dark hair except for two stark white streaks that start by his ears and a face that Tim can’t place age wise. He could be anywhere from forty to sixty, Tim thinks, and he’s probably some type of businessman judging by the white button down and slacks.

“I see your memory is no better than before,” Ra’s says as he reaches out slowly and cups one side of Tim’s face. “Though I suppose the doctors might have overdone the pain medication which would explain your loose tongue.”

It takes a moment before Tim realizes he’s been muttering everything instead of just thinking it. “I…hi.”

Ra’s clucks a bit as his thumb swipes under Tim’s eye with care. “Hello, Timothy. How do you feel?”

“I, I don’t?”

There’s something unnaturally green about Ra’s eyes, and a glint that doesn’t make Tim feel very safe at all the longer he stares. Whatever spell there is gets broken when Ra’s blinks and gently pushes Tim back into the bed, deeper into the pillows.

“That’s good then, if you aren’t in any pain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What area of your life do you tend to enjoy in excess instead of moderation?


	17. Moderation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What area of your life do you tend to enjoy in excess instead of moderation?
> 
> Adult content-Roy/Jason/Dick.

“Dick, c’mon, buddy. Ah, okay, yes, good, good. Dick, hey, you with us?”

Dick groans weakly as he comes to, eyelids fluttering as something hot smooths across one cheek before something icy cold dabs across his forehead. He does gasp when something just as cold and wet settles on his chest across his collarbones.

“Wally?” Dick asks, or rather croaks as a force carefully sits him up a few inches. It feels like he’s leaning against somebody’s chest, warm skin over hard muscles.

“Drink,” orders a voice before the rim of a plastic cup settles against Dick’s mouth. Liquid splashes against his lips then he starts to swallow. It isn’t water, Dick realizes, but rather red Gatorade. It’s the best thing he’s ever had as he pays half attention to the conversation around him.

“Oh my god,” Wally whimpers, “That was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me. I was going to have a heart attack.”

“Could you please shut up and get another cold cloth?” demands Jason, and Dick can feel the vibrations against his body.

“Jay?” he asks slowly.

“Shush, pretty bird, take it easy.” The wet compress gets removed from Dick’s forehead to get replaced by what feels like an ice pack.

Dick hums happily and lets his eyes shut. “What happened?”

“You are lucky you are okay,” Jason growls. “You blacked out in our threesome, you fuckin’ freak.”

“Yeah, that would have been a fun 911-call,” Wally adds, sounding sour and distressed. “Hi operator, me and friend and his kind-of brother were having sex and we kind of overdid it with my friend.”

There’s silence then Dick groans up as he reaches up to cover his face with his hands. His muddled mind starts to reboot as he remembers kneeling in the center of the bed with his face between Wally’s legs and Jason behind him. He remembers trying to split his focus between working his mouth and clenching for Jason, loving every second it. The heat had built, Jason and Wally had made him work, then he remembers nothing.

“I blacked out?”

Wally laughs nervously. “If it’s any consolation we all made it through round two. I think you came down hard. Er, I mean…”

“We all came, we thought you were in post-orgasm bliss, then you just sort of passed out on us. Literally. Just boom, unconscious. For the record you did it pretty sexy.”

“You can faint sexy?” asks Wally, sounding doubtful.

“Exhibit A,” Jason replies, pointing at Dick. “Clearly just gave a blowjob and bottomed at the same time, covered in come, flushed and panting, and he just kinda nuzzles down and passes out. That’s sexy.”

“You’re so extra, Dick,” Wally chuckles as he takes a hold of the slipping icepack and leans over to kiss Dick’s cheek.

“No moderation, that’s for sure,” agrees Jason lowly as he squeezes Dick’s hip gently.

“It was a challenge I was not up to,” Dick bemoans. “Give me ten minutes, then we can try again.”

Wally smacks his thigh. “No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write about three realistic goals you would like to achieve in your lifetime.


	18. 3 Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write about three realistic goals you would like to achieve in your lifetime.
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Jason and Dick.
> 
> In anticipation of my life tomorrow I'm posting a bit early. This prompt got away from me in the best possible way. I have actually done what Jason does and it's truly a unique experience.

Growing up Jason has one goal in life: survival. His main concerns are where will he get his next meal, where is the safest place to sleep, all the while making sure no one else hurts him. When he gets taken in by Bruce and his life goals get met every day, consistently, without fail, Jason slowly lets himself want. Alfred asks what does he want to eat- Jason starts to give actual answers instead of just shrugging or saying whatever was around. Bruce takes him to stores that Jason only ever dreamed of going into and after a couple weeks of staying stone silent and refusing to pick anything he gives in. If he gives in just to make Bruce stop looking so sad, well it’s only part of his reasoning.

“Red,” Jason whispers as Bruce looks a moment away from having some type of fit in the boy’s section of the store as he holds up two simple t-shirts. Who knew clothes shopping could be Batman’s downfall.

“Red?” Bruce repeats, sounding shocked.

“Red,” Jason repeats, more firmly. He lifts his chin a bit and silently dares Bruce to make a scene. He didn’t want to pick out anything, he has more than enough as, but if Bruce makes him go out he’ll start making choices.

Bruce’s shoulders visibly slump as he breaks into a big smile. “Red it is.”

* * *

While high on morphine and subject to Dick’s special brand of love that manifests in being physical Jason recounts some of his early days under Bruce’s care, including when he picked out a red t-shirt. He doesn’t feel the bullet wound on his thigh or the couple of stitches on his arm or the few cracked ribs from his med-bay bed with Dick resting on top of the blankets along his side.

“And what about now?” Dick asks sweetly as he strokes his fingertips over Jason’s face which has to be the best feeling ever. “What does adult-Jason have on his bucket list?”

For a few seconds Jason focuses on the slight tickle that traces across his forehead then over one cheek then remembers Dick asked him a question. “I wanna swim with dolphins.”

The touch stops for a moment then continues as Dick starts to shake. “Swim with dolphins?”

“Majestic motherfuckers,” Jason breathes, unaware that his face breaks into a big, earnest grin. “Have you ever just…looked at one?”

“A dolphin?” Dick asks.

“One day, I’m gonna swim with ‘em,” slurs Jason, turning his face towards Dick. “You come with me. We’ll swim together. You’re like a dolphin, all, all streamline and shit.”

Dick narrowly holds in his snort as he rests his head down on Jason’s shoulder and keeps petting with care while his voice stays sweet. “I’m all streamline and shit?”

“Don’t encourage him, Grayson,” warns Damian.

Jason nods a bit. “Totally. Physics. You. No cape. Boom. Streamline.”

Dick clucks his tongue a bit as his fingers spread up to Jason hairline then strokes back. The action makes Jason shiver and groan. “You’re so articulate when you’re on morphine, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Dolphins are articulate,” Jason whispers. “They can talk with each other. They click, like Damian does.”

The cave goes utterly silent as Dick looks over his shoulder at Damian whose eyes narrow. “If Todd starts making noises I will not be responsible for my actions.”

“He’s just stoned, leave him be,” Dick tuts as he turns his attention back to Jason who looks like he might start crying. “Jay? What’s wrong?”

“Dolphins don’t have legs.”

“Yeah, they got a neato fin instead,” Dick says quickly because no one in their family is fun to deal with crying and on heavy duty painkillers. “Isn’t that nice? Fins?”

Jason inhales sharply. “They can’t walk.”

“They swim, isn’t that better that walking?” asks Dick as he starts to stroke over Jason’s cheek, hoping to stop any waterworks before they start. He’s normally pretty good at keeping people calm, it’s why it’s his job to keep company with whoever’s injured.

“I…maybe?”

* * *

Jason stares at the end of the yacht where Arthur Curry has just made his entrance by quite literally coming out of the ocean. The man beams as water continues to drip off him and onto the floor.

“You must be Jason,” Arthur greets as he extends a hand out and walks forward.

“Uh, yeah. You’re Aquaman,” Jason replies slowly, just as hesitant to lift his hand.

“You can call me Arthur.”

Jason nods a bit then tips his head up to where the yacht’s controls are. “Bruce, what the fuck? You said we were taking the yacht out to make sure it still worked!”

“As if we would just come out for a joyride,” Dick clucks as he emerges from inside, dressed in a wetsuit. “Hi Arthur! Thank you so much for doing this.”

“I’m only doing this because you asked me,” Arthur replies, pointing upwards. “If Spooky had, I would have laughed in his face.”

Jason stomps a foot a bit. He’s off the coast of the Jersey shore and Aquaman has shown up like he’s been invited. “Am I missing something?”

“Of course you are,” Dick laughs, squinting as he steps out into the sun and over to Jason’s side. “Surprise! We’re making one of your dreams come true.”

“My dreams are to kill the Joker, marry Wonder Woman, and own a dog. Unless you’re really good at hiding shit on this boat, none of those things are about to happen.”

Dick grabs onto Jason’s arm and tugs him over to the back of the yacht where the engine is slowly lifting upwards out of the water. “No, but you’ve always wanted to swim with dolphins, right?”

Jason gasps, freezes, then looks at Arthur who salutes him and says, “I heard your littlest bat would have thrown a fit if they took you to Sea World or whatever other man-made prisons there are, so here I am.”

As if on cue a half dozen or so dolphins suddenly flip out of the water with cackles and squeaks. Grey, sleek bodies arch against the bright sky then disappear under the surface with various splashes. Jason throws himself at the railing and looks down to find a pod of dolphins milling about by the boat.

“Fuck,” he says simply as Dick rubs between his shoulders then gently squeezes the back of his neck.

“Come on, wetsuit then into the water with you.”

Arthur floats behind the yacht between two dolphins with hands on their backs as he watches with upmost amusement as the three Bats on the yacht try to figure out the best way to get into the water. Despite all being dressed in near identical black wetsuits their expressions are vastly different as the yacht rolls with the ocean. He can’t quite hear what they’re saying but barks out a laugh when Bruce leans over the back of the boat then gets shoved by the two younger men. He goes down without a hint of grace and splutters to the surface. Dick follows with a neat drive then lastly Jason cannonballs with a hand pinching his nose closed.

For a few minutes they just float as the dolphins circle around and prod then with blunted snouts. Arthur drifts closer and can’t help but smile because the three look amazingly happy, for Gotham bats of course. Even Bruce, who Arthur never sees crack even a smile with the cowl, flashes his teeth in a grin when one dolphin nudges against his upper arm.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Jason says quietly with outstretched hands, dolphins brushing against his palms like a never-ending train. “I’m swimming with dolphins, actual dolphins!”

“Wild dolphins, thanks to me,” Arthur adds as he swims over and grasps Jason’s one wrist. He tugs Jason away from the pod and tells him to lock his legs. One of the bigger females breaks away from the group then positions herself under Jason. Arthur waves a bit as Jason’s face drops when he feels the dolphin’s snout meet the bottom of his exposed feet.

“See ya,” chimes Arthur before the dolphin pumps it tails and takes off with Jason balanced on her snout in a foot push. Jason lasts a good while before disappearing under the surface. Arthur dives and makes sure Jason hasn’t meet a watery grave before focusing over to the pod. He grins around a few bubbles as he gets two dolphins to surprise Bruce and Dick by pushing against their feet. Both yank their legs up and slap against the surface in panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- List a few phobias that you have. When and how did you discover you had these fears?


	19. Phobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> List a few phobias that you have. When and how did you discover you had these fears?
> 
> Warning for kidnapping, featuring Dick and Damian.

Damian keeps silent as he and Dick are tossed onto a surprisingly soft bed, trussed up like holiday turkeys. While Dick has a length of rope wrapped around his head and jammed between his teeth Damian’s mouth is free of anything. It’s becoming frightfully clear that the only reason Damian is getting what could barely be called better treatment is because of his age.

“Gotta be a good older brother, right Mr. Grayson?” mocks one of the kidnappers who bounces on the edge of the bed in what Damian assumes is some type of abandoned hotel judging by the outdated room. “You’re so good protecting little Mr. Wayne here.”

Despite the fact that Dick and Damian are more than capable to escape they’ve been taken out of costume which means playing by civilian rules. The kidnappers may not know about the mini assassin in their midst, but they know that Dick is an ex-cop and have been more than cautious. Full bindings, and of course threats that they have carried out that if Dick misbehaves Damian gets punished.

“Here, squirt, as promised,” another woman says as she tosses over a bag of ice to the other goon who catches it.

“Lay down and I’ll let you ice that shiner you got.”

Damian sucks his lips in then bites down to keep from making any noise. He curls next to Dick and doesn’t move as the bag gets set onto his cheek which feels like it’ll turn some spectacular colors. The ice first burns then soothes as it numbs away the pain. It’s a small relief.

“Just look at you, Mr. Grayson, so obedient,” the man fairly coos as he gets up and goes around. He gives a laugh as he reaches one hand out towards Dick’s hand. Dick struggles a bit and gives a pained noise as that hand clenches into his hair and tugs his head up.

“Leave him alone!” shouts Damian, fighting to sit himself up. He freezes at the silver flash of a knife that rests against the front of Dick’s throat.

“Children shouldn’t speak unless spoken to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- You are a children’s book writer. Write the first few lines of your new book.


	20. Children's Book Writer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are a children’s book writer. Write the first few lines of your new book.
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Tim, Damian, and Jason.

Tim’s eyes slowly widen as he reads the paper before he sets it down and pushes it back to Jason.

“Well?”

“What makes you think any part of what you wrote is appropriate for a children’s book?” Tim demands. “Your audience is children, not mercenaries!”

Jason takes his paper and hugs it protectively against his chest. “A little fight scene never hurt anyone! I was trying to keep it interesting.”

“Do it again,” Tim orders as he snaps his fingers at Damian. “Your turn.”

Damian offers his paper for Tim’s inspection. Tim’s face remains unreadable for a few seconds then his eyebrows climb his face. His eyes flicker over Damian’s work and his mouth opens a few inches before his slams the paper down with a slight blush.

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’ve written a romance, is that not allowed?” Damian replies, looking unsure.

“Damian you…this is borderline erotica. This is worse than what Jason did.”

“Erotica? Gimme!”

Jason snatches the papers from Tim while Damian folds his arm and frowns mightily.

“I was under the impression children liked romances; all those horrible Disney films have romance in them.”

“Princesses and princes, yes. None of those films had any smut,” groans Tim who buries his head under his arms before grabbing at his hair. “You are never going to pass your assignment.”

“You know, this isn’t half bad,” praises Jason as he hands the paper to Damian who brightens up. “I mean, you sure as hell ain’t a children book author, but I see some real adult fiction potential here.”

“Thank you, Todd.”

“Are you an expert, Jason?”

Jason winks. “I’m a consumer, not a producer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- If you had been able to choose, would you rather have been an only child or part of a very large family?


	21. Siblings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you had been able to choose, would you rather have been an only child or part of a very large family?
> 
> No warnings, featuring Damian and Dick

Damian never wanted siblings. He grew up an only child, the crown prince of his family. There was never anyone but himself to compete against. However at close to 2:00am on a mandatory rest night he thinks he is glad he ended up with siblings. The den is dark except for the glow of the television which has gone back to main menu from their movie which has been over for maybe fifteen minutes. Bruce is sprawled lengthwise across the couch with Cassandra in his arms; he’s been asleep since before the movie started and Damian suspects Cassandra is only dozing. Duke and Jason are still quietly arguing about something from their spot on the floor on the thin camping mattress Alfred had brought in with Tim stretched out across their laps. How Tim is breathing being facedown in a pillow is a mystery.

Jason pulls a throw blanket from the pile and tosses it over the three of them with a low promise. “This isn’t only Duke, not by a longshot.”

“You still awake, baby bird?”

Damian snorts as Dick hugs him from behind then swats as a nose nuzzles by his ear. “I am debating where to sleep.”

“You’re lucky Barbara was busy tonight, you get me all to yourself,” Dick teases as his arms drop to grab around Damian’s hips, picking him up just a bit. “You can cuddle with me behind the couch, or we can sleep in my room and not be bothered by anyone.”

Damian’s been involved in enough rest nights to know that someone will be up in four hours and disturb him from his sleep, likely Bruce. As quiet as Batman can be, Bruce on a Saturday morning is anything but. A full night’s rest sounds much better.

“Your room,” Damian announces. He doesn’t fight as Dick sweeps him up onto his hip and totes him upstairs with ease. He’s gotten used to Dick’s need for physical touch and that night he doesn’t have the energy to fight. He’s gently deposited onto Dick’s bed before Dick goes about shutting blinds, turning off lights, adding another glass of water to his nightstand. The blankets rustle as the two get under them and it only takes a few seconds of shoving and fluffing pillows before Dick is plastered against his back and breathing against his neck. The arm that slinks over his waist makes Damian groan just a bit.

“Must you?”

“You’re my little brother, I’m contractually obligated to make you the little spoon when whenever possible.”

“A contract requires two consenting parties.”

“You signed your half, you just don’t remember,” Dick laughs. “No, you don’t have to be 18 either.”

Damian rolls his eyes but lets one of his hands slip down to Dick’s to squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- If I looked into your fridge right now, what would I find?


	22. In Your Fridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I looked into your fridge right now, what would I find?
> 
> No warnings, featuring (implied) Damian/Jon, and Bruce

“You maybe don’t want to go in there,” Jon says nervously as Bruce heads to the refrigerator in the kitchen. The man stops and looks back with a skeptical look as Jon tries to smile but he’s pretty sure it’s coming out more like a grimace. He and Damian have officially been moved in together for two weeks and he definitely does not want mar Bruce’s first impression or give him any (more) reason to doubt letting his youngest fledge out.

“Because there’s nothing in there or because there’s something that has acquired life?” Bruce asks slowly.

Jon barely croaks out an “um” as he isn’t sure what lesser evil to choose when Damian huffs.

“Our standards are not Pennyworth level, Father, but we have survived fine. We can make sandwiches, if you’d like.”

Bruce’s eyes narrow, likely in doubt, but then he opens the fridge. Surprisingly it looks like a normal, well stocked fridge. Jon knows it wasn’t in that condition last night when he raided it for a 2:00 A.M. pudding cup. There’s condiments and juice, a carton of almond milk, eggs and what looks like lunch meat next to an assortment of vegetables.

“Where do you keep your bread?” asks Bruce, sounding much more pleasant while he pulls out some items and puts them onto the counter.

“Near the stove, Father,” Damian fairly chirps back before leaning over to Jon and dropping his voice. “You owe me, Kent.”

“Yeah, I do,” Jon says on an exhale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Have you ever experienced something that just could not be logically explained?


	23. Logically Explained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever experienced something that just could not be logically explained?
> 
> No warnings, featuring Jason, Bruce, and Clark

Jason flicks on the lights to the kitchen with a loud yawn and a desire for mint chocolate chip ice cream. He startles a bit when he finds he isn’t alone and almost stabs himself in the eye. Sitting in front of the big silver refrigerator in a lake of fabric with a big tub of ice cream is Bruce and Clark. The ice creams sits on Bruce’s knee as they take turns scooping with what look like the big serving spoons Alfred uses for pasta. Bruce’s cowl is tucked behind his head leaving him barefaced. His cheeks briefly puff out in an enormous bite while Clark takes another scoop.

“What the fuck?” Jason states before his brain-to-mouth filter kicks in. Both look up at him at the same time looking comical as they continue to chew. Clark lifts his spoon to his mouth as he blinks at Jason.

“Jason,” Bruce replies, sounding like a completely normal person eating ice cream at an ungodly hour on the kitchen floor. He probably would be that if not for the whole nighttime outfit that ruins any idea that things are alright.

“Did we lift the no costumes in the upstairs area rule?” says Jason slowly, briefly wishing he had a camera or his phone for a picture.

Clark freezes for a moment then looks down at himself with a puzzled frown. “Oh. Right.”

“Are you okay?” asks Jason, trying to leave the little nugget of fear just that: a nugget. “I just wanted some mint chocolate chip, but you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Bruce and Clark immediately look down at the tub with somewhat guilty expressions then Bruce looks back up. “How much did you want the mint chocolate chip?”

“Not as badly as you, I think,” Jason admits, telling himself there’s no reason to panic as he slides around them to get to the freezer. He finds a small container of mango sherbet, grabs himself a spoon, then sets himself down on the floor in front of the two who stare at him.

“What? I can’t join you?” And make sure that things are actually copasetic and not about to go to shit, he thinks.

“It’s a bit late to be eating ice cream, Jaylad,” Bruce murmurs, sounding slightly more tired than before as he slumps a tad more forward. It’s textbook post-patrol crashing for Bruce who takes things in steps instead of one big fall into unconsciousness.

“Noted,” hums Jason as he eyes Clark who looks perfectly awake. “So uh, you two just really wanted ice cream or something?”

“Yup, Bruce said he had a good stash too,” Clark replies happily. “This is great!”

Jason hums back and settles against the lower cabinets. He’ll see what other information he can get out of them, but he figures there won’t be any logical explanation for this situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What do you need right now?


	24. What Do You Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you need right now?
> 
> Implied (canon) character death; featuring Jim Gordon and Batman.

Commissioner Gordon is admittedly surprised when he finds Batman on the rooftop under the light of his signal. It’s the first time since Batman’s rampage that started three days ago that Jim’s gotten within eyesight of the vigilante. Batman’s always been hard to pin down, slippery as a shadow, but he was normally pretty good about responding to the Bat Signal. Jim can only wonder if Batman’s decided to respond because he wanted to or because he’s put two cops into the emergency room just a few hours ago.

“So, I didn’t expect you to actually show,” Jim starts, trying to sound casual as he approaches and lights up a cigarette. He stops when Batman takes a step backwards towards the ledge and one hand goes to his belt where Jim knows there’s some type of grappling gun. Jim certainly doesn’t want spook Batman away, not when he isn’t sure when he’ll get this chance again. There are too many questions that can’t go unanswered so Jim turns himself away and gives Batman some space. He’s never had to treat Batman like some type of skittish animal, but then again he’s never had the man go on a three day war path without any apparent trigger.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Jim tries, aiming for friendly into of accusatory as he leans up against the ledge then takes a drag. “You’ve been scaring a lot of people since you came back. I mean, more than normal.”

More like put the city into the panic when Gotham’s Dark Knight showed up again with a vengeance. Petty criminals that would normally be just a roughed up were ending up in traction while more serious offenders who did deserve to be knocked around harder were found barely breathing. Even for Batman who never killed Jim was surprised at the level of sheer violence that witnesses recounted seeing. It was out of character to say the least.

After a few minutes of silence and confirming that Jim isn’t talking to himself he sighs and folds his arms. Batman just stands there but he doesn’t look right. There’s something off about the way he’s positioned, like he’s somehow compensating for something. It could be some type of injury Jim thinks as his eyes narrow. He considers his options then decides he’ll have to risk scaring off Batman by being blunt.

“You put two of mine in Gotham General tonight.”

That earns a slight wince so Jim presses on. “I have to ask why. I thought Smith and Doe were decent cops; not the best, sure, but they were two of the good ones. What’d they do to piss you off?”

“I…am sorry.”

Despite his better judgment Jim can’t help but grimace a bit. Batman’s always sounded rough but he sounds like he’s been yelling himself hoarse or gargling with shattered glass. “You sound terrible.”

In a flash Batman stiffens up then whirls around to the Bat Signal. Jim watches in horror as Batman fists his hands together then slams them through the glass. The shattering echoes out in the night. The light immediately goes out as Batman hits it twice more before slumping over, clinging to the edge.

“Hey!” Jim shouts, taking half a step before his self-preservation instincts kick in. He doesn’t want to be the third cop see a doctor that night because of Batman, but he wonders if maybe he should trying call for one anyways. “What’s wrong?”

Never in a million years does he expect the response he gets. Instead of remaining silent Batman turns his head. While they may not be any tears, Jim has heard the same tone Batman uses from too many parents over the years.

“I need my son back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- It is the end of your life and you are up on stage being presented with a major award. What award is it, and what have you won it for?


	25. Award

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is the end of your life and you are up on stage being presented with a major award. What award is it, and what have you won it for? 
> 
> No warnings, featuring Bruce and Alfred.

Alfred smiles at Bruce who honest to goodness squirms under the gaze before tucking himself into Thomas’s side. Thomas merely laughs and puts an arm down around Bruce who hides away as Alfred gives the box decorated in rainbow striped paper a little shake.

“No hints?” asks Alfred merrily, looking at Martha who puts a finger over her lips.

“I only helped wrap it,” she whispers.

“Thomas?” tries Alfred, but the younger man mimes zipping his lips as Bruce peeks out from Thomas’s side. One glittering blue eye blinks slowly. “Well if no one here will help me, I suppose I’ll just have to find out myself what this is.”

It takes a few seconds thanks to Martha’s overzealous wrapping before Alfred gets a finger under an edge. The paper tears easily and exposes a simple white box. Inside the box Alfred carefully pushes aside more paper to reveal a tiny gold ceramic item. It’s about the size of his hand as he carefully pulls it out and inspects it.

“It’s beautiful,” says Alfred, sincerely even if he doesn’t know what exactly it is. He can tell it’s a Bruce Wayne original, if the months of ceramic projects that have been slowly filling the manor is any indication.

“Why don’t you tell Alfred what it’s for,” says Martha gently as Thomas carefully pushes Bruce forward. Bruce hesitates for a moment then goes to Alfred. The piece almost meets an untimely end as Bruce climbs up onto Alfred’s lap without warning.

“It’s a trophy,” Bruce explains seriously. “For you.”

“A trophy? Well that’s lovely,” hums Alfred, wincing a bit as Bruce shifts his bony little knees and elbows to get more comfortable. “Did I win something? I thought people only got trophies when they won something.”

“It’s a trophy for being the best grandpa ever,” Bruce replies softly. “If you want. I know you’re not really my grandpa, but Mom and Dad said you could be if I asked nicely.”

Decades later during the annual spring cleaning Alfred comes across a dusty, handmade ceramic trophy that’s somehow escaped his eyes for too long. It brings him far too much joy when he shows the little item to Bruce who stares at it in confusion before blushing.

“I…remember giving you that. I’m surprised you never got rid of it.”

“Some things you don’t ever give up,” chides Alfred who’s already taking a soft cloth to the trophy to get off the layers of dust.

Bruce hums a bit and steeples his fingers against his mouth. “I should really get you a new one.”

That makes Alfred laugh a bit. “Going to take up the pottery wheel again?”

“You said I need a hobby,” replies Bruce with a slight shrug, but his face remains covered by his hands.

A week later Alfred enters the kitchen on an early weekday morning to find a massive ceramic trophy that looks like something a racehorse would win. The glaze is top quality, he can tell, and there’s even an affixed plaque on the bottom that reads “Alfred Pennyworth, World’s Best Dad.” There’s little doubt who it’s from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What modern technological device takes up most of your time?


	26. Technological Device

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What modern technological device takes up most of your time?
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Bruce.

Bruce is aware that most of his children have some type of social media and that’s about all he does know about it. He trusts all of them to not post, tag, hastag, Tweet, reblog or whatever it is the kids do these days that would get them into trouble. Sure he’s questioned a few things that he has seen but it was because he didn’t understand it.

“I don’t get it,” Bruce says simply when Stephanie shows him a picture with all the boys lined up and leaning over some type of railing, perfectly parallel without hands or feet touching the ground.

“They’re all planking, this is gold!” Stephanie cries in shock as she swipes to another picture that looks nearly identical to the first one.

Bruce hums, like he’s reconsidering the picture before Stephanie grumbles under her breath and pulls the phone away. “You have no what planking is, do you?”

“Not at all. Should I?”

“God you’re old.”

* * *

“Would you please just do it?” Tim demands as Bruce looks at his hand where his thumb rests across the last bend of his index finger. He twists his wrist a bit to look at all the angles then directs his gaze at Tim. They’re both dressed to the nines and ready to join Alfred in the car to head to that night’s event, but Tim is insisting on getting a picture with Bruce first.

“Are you sure this isn’t some type of vulgar hand sign? I feel like I’m getting tricked,” he asks doubtfully as Tim runs a hand over his face and lets the arm holding his phone drop.

“It’s a heart, Bruce, that’s it.”

“I don’t see a heart.”

Tim grabs at Bruce’s hand and traces around where the heart shape supposedly is and explains how it’s a common pose that people use when posting selfies. It makes a bit more sense to Bruce as Tim makes the same figure with his fingers then strains upward.

“You’re sure it’s just a heart?” Bruce asks as Tim hits the button on his phone.

“No talking,” Tim replies as Bruce stoops down a bit but eyes his own hand doubtfully. He hears the sound that another picture has been taken before he looks at the camera then offers his best gala smile. It’s a nice picture with Tim, Bruce thinks, but he’s still not sold on the heart-thing as Tim immediately goes back to look at the earlier photograph.

“You look so confused,” Tim narrates as his fingers fly across the screen. “I’m posting that too.”

By the time they get to the event Tim announces that Bruce has been dubbed A Dad by the online community.

“Yes, I’m a father,” Bruce agrees carefully. “I have been for a few years.”

“No, like a dad-dad,” Tim says as if that explains anything. “You know, like hi dad, I’m hungry, hi hungry I’m dad?”

Bruce frowns then shakes his head negatively.

* * *

Titus blinks lazily at Damian despite Bruce’s best efforts to get the dog’s attention as he stands over Damian who lays belly down on the floor. Damian keeps his phone trained on Titus who refuses to lift his large head.

“Come on, look at me,” Bruce outright begs as he holds a bone in one hand a red rubber ball in the other, shaking both items like a madman. The dog’s tail thumps against the carpet lightly but he doesn’t otherwise do anything else. He just stares at Damian who waits a few more seconds before huffing.

“Father try harder,” Damian demands, sounding petulant. “Titus needs a good angle.”

Bruce sucks in his lips then bites down gently as he puts his hands and dog toys on his hips. “Titus, walk?”

The dog’s head shoots up while his ears perk as best they can. His eyes go wide as Bruce mentally congratulates himself as Damian clucks.

“That is cruel, Father.”

“I’ll take him for a _walk_ ,” Bruce emphasizes, watching as the dog further focuses on him and apparently giving Damian the angle he wants. It’s a little meaning using the ‘w’ word against Titus but it’s the only way that Bruce can get Damian to hurry along. It’s been about twenty minutes already since Damian started working on Titus’ scheduled Saturday post because apparently the dog has an Instagram and better posting scheduling than Bruce does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Have you ever had the rotten experience of having to put a pet down?


	27. Putting a Pet Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever had the rotten experience of having to put a pet down?
> 
> No warnings, no sad ending; featuring Dick and Jason.

Dick cradles the two halves of a once round stone against his abdomen with a whimper. A lone googly eye sits on the ground between his knees while another one barely clings to the rock. A circular dollop of long dried super glue sits where the one eye used to be.

“You killed him,” Dick breathes, sounding like he’s speaking about a human instead of an inanimate object.

“It was an accident, I’m sorry,” Jason emphasizes but Dick is riding high on Vicodin and his touch to reality is soft at best. “I’m sorry, I’ll get you a new one.”

“You killed Rocky,” Dick repeats, sounding more distressed and teary as he bows over, forehead to the floor. “You killed Rocky!”

“I’m sorry, I am,” says Jason, voice cracking in distress as he goes to his knees and shuffles forward with open hands. “I’ll get you a new pet rock, a better one!”

Dick looks up with big, blue, watery eyes. It looks like someone just killed his puppy and little brother in one fell swoop. “You can’t just replace Rocky like that! He was special.”

Jason spends the next ten minutes comforting Dick and eventually getting him into bed where the two rocks rest on the pillow by Dick’s face.

“Rocky, I’ll put you down tomorrow,” Dick croons as his fingertips stroke over one jagged curve. “We’ll have one more night together, ok?”

The shadow that falls across Jason’s shoulder is a relief as he hisses out to Bruce, “He wants to put down his pet rock, the actual hell?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Have you ever lived in another country besides your country of birth? Would you want to?


	28. Lived in Another Country

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever lived in another country besides your country of birth? Would you want to?
> 
> No warnings. Featuring, Tim, Bruce, and Dick.

Everyone has their ways to relax but unfortunately for Tim his always becomes means to be made fun of. It’s no different then people binging live action movies or shows on Netflix or Disney+, but every time someone catches him with animation and subtitles he gets crap for it.

“Are you watching porn?” comes the loud accusation over Tim’s shoulder. He jumps in fright, grabs at the headphones covering his ears and looks back to find Jason with a beer and shit-eating grin. “It’s totally porn, isn’t it?”

“Don’t do that,” Tim spits as he tells his heart to relax. “And no, it’s not porn.”

The laptop and bright images with black and white subtitles stops when Tim pauses it as Jason leans over further as if giving the beautiful landscape a better inspection. “It’s totally porn.”

“It’s _Violet Evergarden_ ,” Tim corrects, trying not to sound too defensive.

“Japanese porn,” Jason says with a sage nod before Tim slaps the side of his head rather roughly. Jason yelps and backs away, more likely in shock than anything else as Tim shuts his laptop and starts to gather his things.

“Just because it’s animated or from Japan doesn’t immediately make it porn,” he rages, just in time for Bruce to enter into the sitting room with a book of Sudoku. “Just because your tiny little brain can’t understand that genres outside of hentai exist doesn’t mean the rest of us are the same!”

“You little shit,” Jason starts with a delayed gasp as he keeps rubbing his cheek before growling at Tim who glares. Bruce stops and stares at them both then says something that Jason can’t understand. He attention shifts from Tim because Jason knows a good number of languages but whatever Bruce just said sounded like gibberish.

“What?” he snaps in confusion as Tim makes his escape with a single low comment aimed at Bruce.

“Yeah I know, right?”

* * *

The credits start to roll and Tim tips his head just enough to look at Dick. He’s tucked right along Dick’s side and it almost hurts at how safe and warm he feels with Dick’s arm around his shoulders and their legs tangled together under a striped blanket. The den is dark except for the television and smells faintly of long-gone popcorn.

“So?” he asks, trying not to sound too excited. Dick hadn’t said a single word during the whole film, not even a hum, but Tim hadn’t missed the silent tears during a couple parts that he had bet would start the waterworks. “What do you think?”

Dick leans over until his cheek rests on Tim’s head as he wipes under one eye. He looks exhausted, like he could fall asleep at any moment. It’s been a rough few weeks for Dick and everyone’s been trying to help their Big Bird relax. Tonight it was Tim’s turn to try his hand.

“I liked it, Timmy, I liked it a lot.”

Tim’s heart swells. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“I’m not really the anime type, but the animation was gorgeous and I’m a sucker for happy endings.”

It’s enough for Tim to launch into everything he knows about _Weathering With You_. Dick listens and asks a few questions and they’re still talking when Bruce checks in on them.

“Bruce, you ever watch this?” Dick asks, sounding close to passing out despite the fact he’s wrestled Tim into his arms. “Would you even need subtitles?”

Tim stiffens up as Bruce remains quiet for a second. “What did you watch?”

“Something Japanese,” Dick replies easily, “It’s fairly new, by uh, by someone who did another popular movie a while ago. Right, Tim?”

“ _Your Name_ ,” Tim whispers as Dick repeats his answer then laughs weakly.

“Be honest, Bruce: would you need subtitles?”

Bruce merely smiles and doesn’t say word, but it’s enough to pique Tim’s interest.

“You speak Japanese?”

Tim squeaks as Dick rolls them sideways along the couch. “He’s fluent, didn’t you know that?”

“Um, no?”

Sure Bruce is like a human translator, but Tim thought in terms of fluency he was limited to generic European languages, Arabic, then an assortment of specific dialects of mostly dead languages. Anything outside that range with the exception of Kryptonian he thought Bruce only knew the basics or a couple odd phrases.

“I’m sure I’m rusty,” Bruce says lowly.

“Tim make him watch the pretty-sad-space-girl one,” Dick sighs. “See if he can translate the beginning.”

It takes a few minutes before Tim gets free from Dick, gets Youtube up on the television, then has Bruce sit with his back to the screen. It takes another few minutes for Tim to figure out what video Dick wants.

“Oh, _Shelter_! I haven’t watched that in a while.”

Any feelings from the video itself gets blinded by Bruce who perfectly recites the beginning spoken words in English. Dick immediately calls bullshit about “rusty” then makes Bruce watch the rest of the video. At the end Bruce, now in Japanese, reads the English subtitles as they appear.

“Did you forget I lived in Japan for a while?” he asks with an amused tilt to his lips as Tim stares.

Tim splutters as he feels his cheeks heat up. “No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced media :  
> Violet Evergarden (I've only seen the Netflix adaptation)  
> Weathering With You, Your Name (films by Makoto Shinkai; both made me cry)  
> Shelter- Porter Robinson & Madeon (beautiful video and song)
> 
> Next- What is the first thing you do when you wake up every morning? Why?


	29. First Thing You Do When You Wake Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is the first thing you do when you wake up every morning? Why?
> 
> Warnings: Jason/Dick, implied light smut.
> 
> Posting a day late because I actually got to see my friends yesterday.

The first thing Jason does every time he wakes up is wonder if he’s actually alive. With his life (lives?) being what it is his mind seems to default to the absolute worst-case scenario each time. Even on a lazy Saturday morning when Jason blinks to a sea of white he briefly wonders if he’s dead and in heaven before, as if perfectly timed, a warm hand skims over his hip then presses flat against his abs. There’s a slight movement from behind him then a soft kiss to the top of his spine.

“Good morning,” Dick whispers before teeth gently scrap against Jason’s skin. Jason exhales deeply and goes boneless as the hand on his front dips down under the waistband of his shorts.

“Dick,” he replies, voice hoarse. “Hey.” He swallows, coughs a bit, tries to remember that he’s evolved enough for more than just monosyllables. “Morning. Didn’t think I’d wake up in time to see you still here.”

Dick purrs against his neck and spoons up tighter right as his hand curls around Jason who jumps. “I thought about skipping out on you, but then I thought about the last time I stayed long enough to see you wake up.”

It’s obvious to anyone with good eyesight why Dick is considered so handsome, but only a few people know firsthand what a great lover he actually is, and also what a tease he can be. His hand goes loose to start tickling at Jason’s inner thigh.

“I don’t remember that,” Jason groans as he turns his face into the pillow to groan and shiver.

“Me neither,” admits Dick. “Let’s change that.” He shifts up just a bit to suck a bruise against Jason’s neck as he makes sure that that morning will be remembered for quite a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Write about something you purchased used.


	30. Something You Purchased Used

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write about something you purchased used.
> 
> No warnings, featuring Jason and Alfred.

It’s no secret that out of the whole family Jason likes Alfred the most. Jason will openly admit it’s true which is why, he thinks, he’s so nervous. Despite the fact that the small if modest one-bedroom apartment looks cleaner and newer than when Jason purchased it he can’t help but see little flaws. The paint near the ceiling is a little streaky, and there’s a slight crack on the foe-marble table in the kitchen. Even worse is the dishware: nothing matches. Everything was purchased used from about a dozen thrift shops across Gotham and even in Star City when Jason wanted a souvenir for his time with Roy. The utensils are as different as Jason’s scars, varying in length and thickness and even color. The cups and mugs range from classic white to one shaped like maybe an octopus complete with tentacle straw.

“Shit,” Jason breathes at three knocks on the door. He stops his pacing and takes a deep breath. “I got this, I totally got this.” He marches over, makes sure it is Alfred from the peephole, then disengages the various security measures. The door opens outwards and Alfred smiles, bright as a star. There’s an actual picnic basket on one of his arms with red and white fabric sticking out from the top.

“Hello Master Jason,” greets Alfred. “How are you?”

“Good,” Jason croaks before he finds his voice. He steps back and holds the door open. “Come on in, make yourself at home.”

Alfred passes and heads inside Jason’s home. It’s not just a safehouse, and Jason’s never had anyone besides Roy and Kori over before. He’s afraid the little place will disappoint Alfred, that it will somehow make Alfred love him less, but all his fears are unfounded.

“Well isn’t this just the loveliest apartment,” Alfred hums as he sets the picnic basket down on the kitchen table, looking around with obvious interest. “Did you do the decorations?”

“Did most of everything myself,” Jason mumbles as he shuffles over.

“Honestly, Master Jason, I wish I knew earlier,” Alfred says as he goes into the basket and removes the various containers inside. “I would have hired you instead of this terrible man for the east wing of the manor last summer. Anyways, I have the chicken pot pie you requested, but I brought a bit more.”

“Aw, Alf, you didn’t have to. You know I’m the best cook in your brood, I won’t starve.”

“No, but I feel better knowing if you have something in the fridge that doesn’t require more than a microwave.”

Some of the nervousness comes back when it’s time for Jason to open the cabinets where all his mismatched dishware sit. He tries to go fast so Alfred’s sharp eyes can’t see a thing, but he knows he fails at a slight snort.

“Thrift stores, Master Jason?”

“Um, yes?”

“Clearly you haven’t been to One of a Kind. If you don’t mind me saying that’s a rather mundane collection you have. I’ll have to take you one day.”

Jason exhales and looks over his shoulder before digging around for his octopus mug. “You didn’t see this one. Me and Roy were working this case together…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What color do you feel like today?


	31. What color do you feel like today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What color do you feel like today?
> 
> Warnings for discussions about poor mental health. Featuring Damian and Jon.

“Hey um, Damian? Can we talk for a minute?” 

Jon hesitates just outside Damian’s room as he looks inside. The lump under the blankets in the dark doesn’t move but Jon’s hearing picks up the slightest sound of agreement. He hastily lets himself in then shuts the door before taking a short flight over. He hovers over the bed before reminding himself that this is Damian, and Damian does not do cuddling like normal people do. Instead of touching Jon merely perches on the edge of the bed.

“You feeling okay?” starts Jon as he twists his hands over his lap. “And you don’t have to say you are because we know you really aren’t, but I feel like I have to ask that anyways.”

The lump groans a bit. “We?”

“Well, everyone,” Jon admits with a slight wince. The whole Bat clan is on edge, even more so than usual. “I told them I’d take care of it. I mean talking, with you. I told them they can…well you know them, they’d be a little much and I thought you’d rather just have me up here. I know I can be a bit much, don’t get me wrong.”

There’s no scoff that would generally accompany such a declaration and that worries Jon even more than Damian’s peculiar behavior for the past few weeks. Damian doesn’t make a single reply as Jon continues on. “But I thought maybe it’d be easier talking to someone who isn’t family.”

There’s the slightest rustle as the blankets shift and Jon watches as Damian rolls over, just a silver of his face exposed. He looks oddly grey, and absolutely exhausted. “Damian?”

Damian just blinks slowly as he frees one hand and reaches out to Jon who grabs it between two of his own with a tight grip before he relaxes.

“I’m fine,” Damian breathes, barely a whisper.

Jon shakes his head as he gets one knee onto the bed and curls over a bit, holding Damian’s hand over his heart. “You’re not, though. D, everyone can tell you’re not fine.”

There’s silence and Jon’s heart breaks just a little more. His best friend has been like a ghost; unless you were actually looking at him you’d never know he was there. It was more than just his natural skills or abilities to be silent or unobserved. His words were always precious, like little, often barbed treasures, but Jon can’t remember that last he heard Damian do anything but give monosyllabic responses to anyone. 

“Do you remember a couple years ago,” Jon whispers as he puts their palms together then separates their fingers before closing them down over the webbing. “When Bruce…got really sad?” He’d been clinically depressed, but Jon doesn’t think those exact words will help the message he wants to get across. He can’t bring himself to say those words anyway, not when he thinks Damian is going through the same thing as Bruce.

Damian hums an affirmative noise as Jon brings Damian’s hand up to rest against his cheek. There’s no remark about Jon acting like a cat as he nuzzles against Damian’s skin a bit as he forces himself to keep speaking. “And do you remember that one night? It was raining, and my Pa made your dad go to bed, and then he asked all of us downstairs? The fireplace was going because it was really cold especially with the damp, and Alfred had made like a gallon of hot chocolate. My Pa was real worried about Bruce then.”

Everyone was always nervous about Bruce, but this was a different kind of a nervous. This wasn’t a nervous about forgetting to sleep because of a big case or getting hurt while in the cape and cowl.

“Do you remember what my Pa said, D?”

It’s enough for Jon to see Damian’s face, what little is visible, to scrunch up. It’s obvious he does, which might make the next part a bit easier.

“My Pa said that what was happening to Bruce could happen to anyone, and that we shouldn’t ever let ourselves get like that. He said that when he was real little my Grandma would ask him a question when he was throwing tantrums or too upset to really explain himself with lots of words. Damian, I’m going to ask you that question, ok? And I want you to be as honest as you can. You don’t have to lie to me.”

Jon shifts just a bit more and watches as Damian bites into his lower lip, like he knows what Jon is about to say and is bracing himself.

“What color do you feel like today, D?”

The question hangs in the air for a bit as Jon waits. It could be seconds, minutes, or even an hour before Damian squeezes back on Jon’s hand, croaking out a single color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- If you were to teach as a career, what would you teach?


	32. Teach as a Career

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were to teach as a career, what would you teach?
> 
> No warnings. Featuring The Justice League.

Superman blinks a few times before his face wrinkles up in confusion. “I’m…not sure.”

“You must have an idea, Kal,” teases Wonder Woman as she leans forward a bit more. “And you are so good with children!”

“Is it cheating if I say I’d teach gym?” Flash asks as he raises his hand from his spot at the table. All heads turn towards Batman at the head who’s become the unwilling leader for the “group activity” of the month. No one is sure who suggested a mass question and answer session or where the questions themselves had come from, but it’s a much safer endeavor than floating tin foil boats laden with pennies or making plastic straws and pasta towers.

“There weren’t any parameters set for this,” Batman grumbles, sounding like a sour father which is partially why he was voted to take control, being an actual father and all. He points at the notecard in question. “I don’t see how you could cheat.”

Flash beams. “I would teach gym.”

“Wonder Woman?” Batman prompts.

“I would like to teach weaponry.”

“Try the American educational system,” prompts Batman slowly.

Wonder Woman hums a bit then brightens up. “I would like to teach a language.”

More Justice Leaguers give their answers before it circles back to Superman who shrugs. “English?”

“Language or the subject?”

“Um, subject?”

Batman throws the notecard over his shoulder in such a way that Superman winces and looks like he’s severely disappointed his father.

“Well Spooky, how about you?” calls Green Lantern. “What would you teach the future generation?”

“Chemistry,” snaps Batman without a moment of pause which earns a couple raised eyebrows.

“Chemistry?”

In one smooth movement Batman flicks something on his belt, takes out what looks like a capsule, then holds it over the end of the table. A single droplet of something falls down before a four-foot stream of flame sears upwards. A few give shouts of alarm while Batman puts the capsule back before shuffling the notecards a bit.

“He’d be the coolest chemistry teacher ever,” Captain Marvel whispers with clear longing to Superman who swallows thickly. “Right?”

“Um, sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Write about a time everything changed in the blink of an eye.
> 
> Early update as I don't think I'll have time to post this upcoming Sunday.


	33. Everything Changed in the Blink of an Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write about a time everything changed in the blink of an eye.
> 
> No warnings, featuring Superman, Batman, Flash.

It only takes a blink in the midst of the battle for Superman to get hit and go down, hard. He goes sailing into the side of the red-rock landscape that covers most of the planet and ends up triggering a rockslide when the impact sends cracks up the upper half of the cliff. Rubble rains down like a monsoon with a single tiny red and blue figure blinking in and out of sight within it.

“Superman’s down,” Batman snaps into his comm as he delivers a final blow to the alien which luckily has similar weak spots to that of a human. Unluckily their weapons seem to be more magical than first anticipated, and their actual weak spots require substantially more force than a standard human would need. “Flash, get him.”

“On it,” replies Flash.

It takes no small amount of effort to get Superman out. Then the dreaded message comes over the comm link. “Superman’s hurt. Really hurt. He’s not breathing. I need back-up, now.”

There’s no one on the mission team with any sort of healing powers or medical training, at least no more than the basics. In just a few seconds Batman gets put down by Superman who’s taken a massive hit to his side that continues to bleed out. The wound gets covered in a thick power to stop the bleeding before Batman bites back a few choice words as the battle continues on around them.

“He’s still not breathing,” Flash mutters as he hangs by Superman’s left shoulder while Batman adjusts Superman flat on his back, or as best he can considering they’re resting of a massive, ragged boulder. There doesn’t seem to be any injury or blockage in his airways and the wound sluggishly bleeds out over the powder. He’s not healing, or at least not quickly.

“I need an evac,” Batman says evenly as he prods around the edge of the wound before shifting on his knees, armor plates grating over the stone. He eyes Flash who looks like he’s ready for about anything.

“You probably have a better lung capacity than me,” admits Batman as he tilts Superman’s head back a bit. “Pulse but no respirations. Don’t worry about hurting him; you won’t be able to.”

“Rescue breaths?”

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Write about a souvenir you have bought or received.


	34. Souvenir Bought or Received

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write about a souvenir you have bought or received.
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Bruce and Alfred.

Bruce does not call when he’s off overseas. The only reason Alfred knows Bruce is even alive is the lack of evidence that he’s dead and the occasional, sporadic souvenir. The packages are normally small, almost always covered in foreign characters or postage. The notes that accompany the packages always start with _Dear Alfred_ , followed by a short note about the souvenir. They always finish with a familiar signature, _B. Wayne_.

A pair of chopsticks with cherry blossoms wrapped around the upper part come from Japan, from a kind ramen shop owner who took in Bruce above the shop itself. A small jade Foo dog arrives from China arrives almost a year later and serves as an excellent paperwork. It seems Bruce picked it up from a marketplace on an evening stroll. The bottle of premium Russian vodka comes with a note with a wonderfully drawn, childish smiley face because Alfred does like vodka, but that detail is kept under lock and key.

The best souvenir comes without warning, packaging, or postage. Expecting a chat with the manor landscapers to discuss plans for the upcoming spring, Alfred doesn’t hesitate to open the front door. A tray with glasses and iced tea sit on a nearby table to be distributed. Instead of the head landscaper that Alfred’s grown quite fond of there’s a fairly scruffy looking young man who looks like he could do with a good meal and long shower. The second thing Alfred notices are his eyes, eyes he’s seen in exactly two generations of Waynes, that he hasn’t seen in person for years.

“Bruce,” he whispers, losing all his breath as if he’s been punched. He starts to reach out then hesitates as the man offers the slightest of the smiles.

“Hey Alfred.”

Alfred stays silent as Bruce wraps him up in a tight hug that briefly lifts him off his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What is the biggest trigger for stress in your life?


	35. What is the Biggest Trigger for Stress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is the biggest trigger for stress in your life?
> 
> No warnings. Wing!fic featuring Dick and Tim.

Dick’s molting is undoubtedly the biggest stress in his life. He’ll take muggings, robberies, hostage situations, galactic invasions and wars any day of the week: they’re a cake walk compared to molting. On top of the physical discomforts that include itching, low-grade fevers, and dry skin Dick gets the bonus of being downright moody on and off for weeks before and after. He’s the only one in the family besides Tim who molts and Tim is the only one who really understands what he’s going through.

“You really are though,” Dick insists from where he’s stretched out in the center of his room on his belly, wings stretched out and draped across the carpet like some fallen angel. His left one curves over Tim’s lap as the boy alternates between finger-brushing through the feathers and rubbing a special molting balm over the dry, irritated skin in the bare patches that make Dick look like Killer Croc got a few good bites out of him.

“You’re just jealous no one else has to deal with this,” Tim hums gently as he coaxes another worn, dull feather loose and adds it to his ever-growing pile. Dick has normally beautiful, full black-blue wings with shades of dark green. They’re striking in direct sunlight and wonderfully deceptive under cover of night. Now though, they’re frankly a bit sad and messy looking.

Dick lifts his head from the pillow he’s been hugging with a glare. “No! You’re the only one who actually knows what it’s like to go through this. No one else has ever experienced this hell!”

Some feathers closer to the bases of Dick’s wings puff in in agitation and Tim is quick to reach over to gently pet them down. Almost immediately Dick slumps back onto his pillow with a whine. “I’m miserable, it’s not fair.”

“You do have it bad, no one is saying you don’t,” Tim soothes as best he can as he makes sure his discard pile is out of his way before he flicks up his golden brown wings to help him balance as he leans over. Dick’s cheek is pink and very warm. “I think your fever is back, want something?”

Two socked feet thump against the carpet as Dick beats his fists into the carpet like a toddler throwing a tantrum as he screams into his pillow. The scary part is the amount of strength Dick is putting into his blow while his wings lift up. Tim edges away as they start to shudder and flop in a full body fit.

“Do you want alcohol,” Tim half-shouts as he gets to his feet then tucks his wings back. It’s an odd enough statement to get Dick to pause and tilt his face to expose one glassy eye.

“What?”

“Alcohol: maybe being drunk will help while you molt.”

Dick frown deepens before his whole body goes lax while his voice softens. “Could you grab me some Advil and ice cream?”

“What type of ice cream you want?”

“I think there’s some green tea.”

Ten minutes later Tim returns to Dick’s room with a small tray consisting of a bottle of Advil, tall plastic cup of ice water, and the whole gallon worth of green tea ice cream. He kicks the door shut then gets onto his knees to make his offering to Dick who smiles.

“You’re the best, Timmy.”

“I know; you don’t have to tell me. You enjoy, I’m going to keep plucking, okay?”

“Okay.”

After finishing his ice cream and popping an extra Advil Dick eventually ends up falling asleep. It’s a careful dance for Tim to sneak out from underneath Dick’s one wing to go for a lightweight blanket that he carefully drapes between the blue-black wings to cover over Dick’s shoulders and legs. He’s gentle and experienced enough to risk continuing working out more old and damaged feathers. His fingers are steady and careful as he goes; it’s when there’s a knock on the door that Dick grumbles a bit.

“Come in,” Tim calls as Bruce’s head appears once the door opens.

“Alfred said he hasn’t seen you two all day,” he says, taking a few steps in. His wings are a true black, the longest primaries criss-crossing behind his back to avoid the floor. “Is everything alright?”

“I want to die,” Dick groans from his spot on the floor as he reaches one hand up, back to being facedown in his pillow. Bruce hesitates for a moment then goes over to hold Dick’s hand. He gets tugged down and ends up with Dick’s torso cradled in his lap as he strokes Dick’s hair while Tim resumes his molting assistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What was the last thing you read, heard, or saw that inspired you?


	36. Last Thing That Inspired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was the last thing you read, heard, or saw that inspired you?
> 
> Warning for implied torture, drinking. Featuring Jason and Bruce.

Watching Bruce pound shots at the bar is an inspiration that Jason never thought he would live long enough to see. There’s no slight of hand or trickery as Bruce takes up the third shot glass and knocks it back without blinking before setting it back down gently. More than a few eyes have been staring, including a group of women who whisper behind their hands with a couple of pointed fingers. On any other night it could be fun for Jason to watch Bruce deal with the attention and try to fend them off, but tonight isn’t for fun and games. Jason goes over to the bar from his little table and ducks under Bruce’s arm to slide up right against his side.

“Can I get a shot of whatever he’s having?” Jason asks in a flirty tone to the bartender as he holds Bruce’s arm over his shoulder to keep it in place. The bartender gives Jason a skeptical look before his eyes go to Bruce in an obvious question. Bruce merely waves his other hand a bit as he leans against Jason with a somber expression.

“Gee-whiz, B, you’re my hero,” chirps Jason as he takes some of Bruce’s weight. “I hope I can do shots like you when I’m your age.”

That earns a grunt from Bruce who’s just gotten back from an extended Justice League mission that apparently went very south and included some kind of a mind torture. Jason doesn’t know the details, won’t ask until Bruce is properly sloshed, but what he does know is that it must have been pretty bad for Bruce to ask for a drinking buddy. The only reason they’re out in public at a fancier bar is to remind them no to go too crazy: Jason can only imagine what they’d do if they were left unsupervised in Bruce’s office with unlimited booze.

“Vodka, classy.” Jason taps the shot glass filled with clear liquid onto the bar top once to change his grip then tips it back. He almost spits it back out and barely gets the drink down while his face twists in disgust. He looks at Bruce who cracks the first smile that Jason can remember in the past few days.

“Absinthe, actually. Don’t presume, Jason.”

“Oh shut up,” Jason tries to say as his eyes tear up. “Could I get a Coke please? Or rubbing alcohol? Literally anything to wash the taste of that out of my mouth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Complete this thought: “I wish an alarm would notify me whenever…”


	37. I Wish An Alarm Would Notify Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Complete this thought: “I wish an alarm would notify me whenever…”
> 
> No warnings. A/B/O AU. Featuring Bruce and Dick.

“You know, I wish I had some type of alarm to warn me whenever my nest wasn’t empty,” Bruce says quietly as he walks out of the bathroom back to his bedroom to find he now has company. There’s a small lump curled under one of the blankets to the left side of the nest with just a tuft of black hair exposed. His voice is enough to have Dick peep out of the blankets with those big blue eyes that Bruce hopes will never fade as the pup grows older.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Dick asks, sounding tiny and afraid.

“You stay with me any night you want,” Bruce replies softly, hastily going over to sit on the edge of the nest. He opens his arms so Dick and slide against his front and scent against his neck with a warm nose for a few seconds before he has to push the boy away. “I have to brush my teeth and say goodnight to Alfred, but I’ll be back and then we sleep, alright?”

“’k.”

Bruce’s normal routine takes about half the time to finish that night, though he adds the step of flicking on a starry nightlight for the bathroom in case Dick gets up. When the blinds are drawn he silently goes over to his nest and slides his hands over the top of it to get his bearings. He slips over the blankets finds Dick in the center. The pup is half-asleep and is easy to shift around until Bruce has him cuddled up in his arms against his chest. That close it’s easy to pick up on the unique milky scent that clings to pups before they present. It’s a scent that evokes thoughts of warm, safe, loved, and it’s the perfect thing to fall asleep to.

He wakes up a few times that night and panics only once when he can’t find Dick. Frantic hands pat around with care and grow more desperate until Bruce hears the bathroom door click open. He can make out a small figure slowly walk over and sighs in relief as Dick returns to the next. The pup yelps as Bruce hugs him tightly.

“What?” Dick cries as Bruce nuzzles against Dick’s neck, telling himself over and over again that Dick is alright as he breathes.

“Couldn’t find you,” Bruce murmurs. He feels tiny arms wrap around his shoulders and rub gently while Dick’s words make him wonder what he ever did to deserve him.

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, B. I’m not even a dream right now, I’m real.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What are you recovering from right now?


	38. Recovering From

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are you recovering from right now?
> 
> Warnings for depression, discussions of mental health. Featuring: Dick/Wally (Young Justice verse).

“Hey, you warm enough, Dick?” Wally asks as he feels his partner shiver under his arm, already going to shrug off his jacket as he speaks. “I told you it was gonna get cold.” He lets go of Dick long enough to swing the sweatshirt around Dick’s shoulders before putting an arm back across Dick’s back. Despite the merry atmosphere as the carnival lights up while the sun goes down there’s a tension that Wally doesn’t think he’ll be able to get rid of that night.

“I should have listened, sorry, Wally,” Dick says quietly, turning into Wally a bit more. Dick’s shorter by a few inches, and if Wally gets onto his toes he can easily rest his chin into the mess of black hair as he tugs Dick into a hug.

“Good thing us Speedsters run hot,” he chimes, squeezing harder until Dick squeaks. He then releases and hugs Dick from the side as they wait in line for corndogs and funnel cake. Once they’re seated with their food at a somewhat questionable picnic table surrounded by other couples, families, groups of friends, Wally starts to eat. He tries not to stare too much as Dick takes a few little bites of everything then picks at the fried dough without actually eating any of it.

“Not hungry?” Wally murmurs as Dick rests his elbow on the scarred wood to set his chin on it as he shakes his head without a word. Even with his trademark sunglasses which are looking more out of place the longer the night eve goes on Wally knows that Dick is wearing them more than just to keep a low-profile. The dark circles under his eyes have reached a scary level of purple.

“You want something else? You know I’m going to finish anything you don’t want.”

Dick sighs but surprisingly does look around the food court area. “I guess a pretzel might be nice. You finish first, we’ll get it on the move.”

It doesn’t take long for Wally to finish up then grab a big hot pretzel. With Dick saying he doesn’t want to go on any rides and he’d rather just walk around Wally takes the lead to walk them around. Dick hangs onto his arm with both hands and absently eats the pieces of pretzel that Wally breaks off for him. When they wander far enough away from the main hustle and bustle of the carnival and find the Ferris Wheel that’s lit up in whites and reds Wally gets an idea.

“Hey, babe, let’s take a lap,” Wally says, practically dragging Dick over to the line.

It doesn’t take too long until they’re seated in the open-air bench with a slim metal bar across their laps. Wally pats Dick’s thigh and thinks about making some type of pun about flying or Gotham skyscrapers but one look at Dick’s solemn face, now sans sunglasses, tells him not to. When the ride stops them about halfway up Wally leans over and cranes his neck to rest on Dick’s shoulder. He stares out to the tree line and then upwards where the first few stars are peeking out through the slight cloud cover.

“You wanna talk about it?” he murmurs as he squeezes Dick’s knee with care.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Dick, you can say you don’t want to talk, just don’t lie to me, ok? It’s alright if you don’t want to talk, I won’t push.”

Dick kicks his foot out a bit, and it takes Wally a moment to realize the motion is not to dislodge his hand but is rather a childish kick of frustration as Dick folds his arm and sinks down a bit. “I…I’m sorry, Wally.”

“Don’t be, it’s alright,” Wally replies, tilting himself more towards Dick and reaching to his other knee. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Dick stomps a foot. “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.” He goes silent for a bit before pressing closer to Wally, grabbing the front of his shirt like it could ground him. “The doctor just upped my antidepressant; she said it would take a while for things to even out and it might get worse before it gets better.”

“Oh, Dick.”

“I’m nauseous, I can’t sleep, I’m anxious over everything. I’m trying to hold it together, but I’m not sure that I can, not this time.” It’s said in a rush, and Dick’s voice cracks at the very end. Even more concerning are the gentle sobs as Dick starts to apologize again while clinging to Wally who wraps his arms around Dick and rocks him as best he can.

“This is been going on for a while, hasn’t it?”

Dick nods.

“You talk to your doctor about how you’re feeling?”

Dick responds negatively as he buries his face into Wally’s neck as they crest the top of the Ferris Wheel and make the slow descent down.

“Talk to Bruce?”

There’s a choked, watery sob that suggests Dick just tried to laugh as Wally strokes at the back of Dick’s neck with just a hint of fingernails that would normally have Dick shivering in delight. “Sorry, dumb question.”

The change in lighting makes Wally look up, and he finds them at the bottom of the Ferris Wheel. He’s glad he’s closer to the platform that allows riders on and off because it means he can shield Dick from the curious eyes of the waiting riders and young employee who hesitates by their bench to get them off. Her head tips a bit. “You just propose to him or something?”

“No he’s uh, he’s having a rough night,” Wally replies quickly, wondering how best to get Dick off the ride and somewhere private without superspeed.

The girl nods a bit, looks over her shoulder at the line, then shakes her head. “You want to go around again?”

“If we could that would be great,” Wally breathes as the girl gives them a sympathetic look.

“No rush, hope he feels better,” she replies softly.

“Thank you,” calls Wally as the ride creaks them forward and away from the loading platform. The air is colder the higher they go, but Dick doesn’t seem to notice as he continues to cry. Wally wishes he had brought a better sweatshirt knowing that it would end up on Dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Write about something you would still buy if it cost twice as much as it costs today.


	39. Twice the Price

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write about something you would still buy if it cost twice as much as it costs today.
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Jason and Dick.
> 
> And one additional note: I'm actively working on prompt# 104 and this one (#39) is probably my absolute favorite.

Jason is normally a hard person to get blushing but he goes bright red in a flash as he slams the lid back on the box Dick has given him. It’s a large box, wider than Jason is and more than half his height. More blue wrapping paper falls off and onto the floor as Jason’s head whips up at Dick who’s leaning over Bruce’s chair and hugging the man from behind with the biggest, most teasing smile on his face. Everyone else in the room looks between the birthday boy on the carpet who’s been opening presents for a bit and then to Dick, trying to figure out what’s gotten such a response from Jason.

“You didn’t,” Jason practically snarls as the blush slowly tracks down his neck. He smacks at Tim’s hand as the boy reaches over towards the box.

“What’d he get you?” asks Tim as Dick curls closer to Bruce who looks mildly uncomfortable as he balances a plate of what remains to his slice of birthday cake over one knee.

“Happy birthday Jay,” Dick purrs lowly with what most people would call bedroom eyes. “Hope you think of me every time you use it.”

“I’m going to throttle you,” warns Jason quietly as Damian huffs a bit from his spot on the couch.

“Is it a sex toy?” he demands which turns all gazes, including Jason’s, onto him. He stares right back at Jason and bristles up a bit. “What?”

“Why the hell would my brother get me a sex toy?” Jason says right as Dick asks a different question.

“Why do you know what that is?”

“I’m fourteen, I-” Damian never finishes his sentence as Dick leans too much on Bruce and sends the man face first into his cake without any warning. Like the true hero he is Bruce shoves himself back with a vengeance and blinks past the icing that clings to his eyelashes as Dick narrowly avoids a broken nose against the back of Bruce’s skull.

“Dick.”

“That was not my fault,” Dick mutters as he gratefully accepts a colorful napkin from Alfred who looks rather bemused by everything. Dick starts to wipe over Bruce’s face as Titus makes his move after minutes of staring and drooling. The dog gets up and snaps up what’s left of Bruce’s cake, as quiet and quick as his master.

“Titus, no!” yelps Damian as the Great Dane chews with a few tail wags. The cake is vanilla, not chocolate, but it doesn’t stop Damian from prying the dog’s jaws open as half-chewed cakes coated in saliva tries to escape down Titus’s throat. “No!” Damian’s hand goes into Titus’ mouth without fear as he continues to scold.

While the room descends into laughter and chaos Tim keeps an eye on Jason who takes the opportunity to lift the lid to the box and sneak another peak at what’s inside. Tim can’t see a thing from his angle but Jason’s blush disappears under the front of his shirt down to his chest. When Bruce takes over cleaning himself up Dick slips onto his hands and knees to crawl over to Jason. He’s still smiling but it’s smaller, kinder.

“You bastard,” Jason whispers, failing to hide a grin as he puts the box down to reach out and pull Dick into a bruising hug. Dick looks like a gangly doll for a second before he melts against Jason with a hum and hugs him back as Jason turns his face into Dick’s neck. Tim’s ears prick up a bit as Jason continues to talk. “It’s really expensive.”

“It’s not.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Ok, so it’s a little expensive, but even if it had cost double what it did I still would have gotten it for you because I thought you’d like it,” replies Dick, sounding sure and confident before the confidence drops a bit. “You do like it, right?”

“I love it Dick, you don’t even know.”

“I think I might.”

“Ok, so you do, maybe.”

Tim finger steps his hand to the box and yelps as Jason kicks out at him. “I see you, Tim!”

“What is it? I have to know,” Tim whines. “Come on, someone clue me in.”

“It’s embarrassing,” mumbles Jason. “But it’s also awesome.”

“Just show them,” encourages Dick who lets go and flops back. Jason takes a breath then takes up the box to spread across his legs. He looks at Dick who shoos a hand at him to go on. “They’re going to find out eventually.”

The lid gets completely removed and Tim stares at the gift as Jason’s hands go into the box, almost reverently. He pulls part of it and holds it to his chest with obvious care, like he’s afraid to break it. “It’s one of those stupid things you always want but ever actually get yourself because it’s dumb and pointless.”

“You never said you wanted one,” is the first thing out of Bruce’s mouth, sounding somewhat offended. There’s little doubt that Bruce is running a dozen different reasons why he never knew that Jason wanted one and why Jason never told him. It’s no secret Bruce is not a great gift giver and always asks the to-be recipient blankly what they want around any holiday or birthday.

“They’re expensive,” Jason says somewhat shyly as he cuddles the mermaid tail colored in black, red, and orange. “And stupid.”

“They’re fun and you’ve always wanted one,” Dick protests as he takes out the end of the fin that bends slightly under its own weight that’s more fish-like than dolphin in shape. “You like the colors? If you don’t we can get you a different one.”

“I like this one,” Jason says warningly as Dick holds up his hands in surrender.

“Just saying…”

It doesn’t take long for Jason to be told he’s lucky he’s an August baby before everyone moves outside to the pool. Bruce sulks by Alfred as the collective children try to help Jason with the fin. Damian ends up getting tossed into the pool by Jason when the youngest of the group won’t back off, and Tim winds up being the second human in when Titus knocks into him to get to Damian. No phones suffer any casualties as everyone knows to leave their phones inside and away from any harm. Damian lets Titus bite at the back of his shirt to pull him into the shallows as Tim slaps at the edge of the pool with a growl as Jason slowly shimmies into the tailfin.

“I hope you drown,” he hisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What do you think is the most important thing for today’s kids to learn in school?


	40. Today's Kids to Learn in School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think is the most important thing for today’s kids to learn in school?
> 
> Warnings for discussions of adult themes. Featuring Dick and Jason.

Dick squirms down between Jason and the back of the couch with a whine. Jason huffs a bit and lifts his hand with the beer up higher until Dick stops moving. It’s close to midnight and Jason is barely buzzed while Dick is definitely drunk, bordering sloshed.

“You good?” Jason asks as he adjusts his other hand and the paperback in his grip to rest over Dick’s shoulder. Dick’s arms worm under him in a hug as they take up the full length of the couch.

“I. Have been thinking,” Dick says slowly into the edge of Jason’s shoulder, speech slurred.

“And how’s that going for you?” replies Jason, setting his beer down first to then grab at the bookmark to keep his place before the paperback goes onto the side table too. He shifts on the couch until Dick is practically on him, breathing against his neck.

“You know what they don’t teach kids in school?” Dick murmurs as Jason reaches up to stroke along his back and shoulders.

He snorts in response. “Do you want me to actually answer that, or ask you?”

“Ask me.”

“What don’t they teach kids in school?” Jason croons.

“Foreplay.”

Jason freezes and resists the urge to start laughing hysterically as he goes back to rubbing circles on Dick’s back.

“Elaborate,” he croaks, narrowly keeping it together.

“Kids learn everything in school,” Dick starts, “And, and sex ed and all that. But you know what they don’t teach? Foreplay. When they get old and horny they’re just expected to, to, to do it! It’s terrible.”

Jason hums thoughtfully as Dick starts to rant. “I mean, they teach you what’s sex, and how to do it, and not to get pregnant from it, but they don’t teach you about the before the sex part! Do you know how many marriages we could save if you taught kids foreplay? A lot. Like a lot, a lot. We could make so many people happy if we didn’t send them in blind.” Dick hums happily as he slings a leg over Jason’s hips as he drops his voice just a bit.

“Do you know how many girls wouldn’t have to fake it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What is the best road trip or vacation you have ever taken? Who was there? Where did you go? What did you see along the way?


	41. Road Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is the best road trip or vacation you have ever taken? Who was there? Where did you go? What did you see along the way?
> 
> Implied smut. Unapologetic college!AU, featuring Clark/Bruce.
> 
> This is within my top 5 favorite prompts.

“Ma, I know, I know,” Clark hisses as he keeps his free hand cupped over around his mouth and bottom half of the cell phone to hopefully keep the conversation private as he looks over his shoulder nervously. There’s a group of four people waiting a fair distance away outside in the unusually warm and sunny May day. Bruce is leaning against the driver’s side door of the car parked on the driveway, twirling a set of keys around a finger looking pained as he likely gets the same conversation that Clark is getting.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” Martha replies, sounding soft and nervous.

“I won’t, promise. Look Ma, I have to go now, ok? I’ll call you tonight right before I go to sleep.”

“You better be sleeping in two beds, you hear me, Clark?”

Clark groans and feels himself blush as his hand shifts to palm over his whole face. “Ma, I’m not talking about that again with you. I’m an adult and it’s none of your business what I do with my boyfriend.”

His mother huffs over the line, sounding resigned. “I love you, Clark, even if I don’t like your decisions. Have fun, be safe, we’ll talk tonight.”

“I love you too, bye Ma.”

Clark can’t help but smile a bit as he pulls the phone away from his ear to hang up. He slips it into his pocket then tries to settle the butterflies in his stomach.

He’s just finished his junior year of college and is starting off his summer vacation with a week-long road trip with his boyfriend to go home to Kansas. They’ve planned to arrive on Thursday to spend Memorial Day weekend at the big state fair. While most people, namely Clark’s mother, are under the impression that it’ll be the first time Bruce and Clark will be spending overnights together in hotels across the country, a few know better. The apartment where Clark lives during the school year had one extra occupant for the last three days of Clark’s semester and it’s anyone’s guess if Thomas, Martha, or Alfred bought Bruce’s excuse about a “3-day camping trip.”

When Bruce sees Clark start to walk over he rolls his eyes and stares down his father as he interrupts Thomas’s speech about being safe and responsible without hesitation. “I got it, I’ll call you tonight.”

Thomas gapes a bit and it’s only Martha’s hand on his shoulder that keeps him from going off.

“You know where you’re going?” she asks sweetly as Clark shyly goes next to Bruce saying he’s ready.

“Yup,” Bruce replies dryly.

“And you have everything?” she asks her eyes turn to Clark. He’s a special boy, one that Martha truly does like. How her son ended up with such a kind, gentle soul is beyond her, but they seem happy together and she really does hope this trip doesn’t break them apart.

“I think so.”

“Well if you’ve forgotten anything we’ll just have to ship it along,” says Alfred, stepping forward.

Clark shakes his hand with a big grin. “Thanks for everything Mr. Pennyworth.”

“Always a pleasure to have you, Master Clark. Please thank your mother for me again for that venison recipe.”

“Will do.”

Next Martha opens her arms and waits for Clark to hunch up his shoulders in obvious embarrassment before reaching for her in a hug. “Thanks for having me, Mrs. Wayne.”

“You are always welcome here, Clark, and I hope my boy doesn’t drive you crazy this week. You two have fun, alright?”

“Absolutely.”

After Martha releases Clark she nudges her husband who’s practically glowering at the young man who does retreat back to Bruce, looking uncomfortable. It’s no secret Bruce and Thomas have a strained relationship and that Thomas has never quite warmed up to Bruce’s boyfriend. Unlike Martha, Thomas sees nothing but a dewy-eyed country boy who certainly doesn’t deserve his son.

“Thomas,” she warns lowly.

“Have fun,” Thomas says, sounding strained. “Bruce, I don’t want to hear about speeding tickets, got it?”

“Sure thing,” replies Bruce with a big fake smile as he puts an arm around Clark’s back. “Can we go now?”

“Have fun,” Martha echoes as Clark goes around the silver convertible to get into the passenger side as Bruce slips down onto the driver’s seat. Their suitcases are already packed and loaded in the back of the car. Both buckle up before the engine growls to life. Thomas, Martha, and Alfred all step back as the two make their last minute preparations, namely sunglasses and Bruce getting his Bluetooth onto his ear.

“Be careful on the Parkway,” Martha calls as both turn around to wave a bit before Bruce faces forward. The music in the car goes up to what she assumes to maximum volume before Bruce peels down the driveway. It sounds like he gets it into third gear over the sound of rock music as the vehicle disappears from view. They have to wait a few seconds before they can spot the car streak down the main road between the trees.

* * *

The hotel after their first night of driving is everything Clark expected as they pull up: it’s big and pretty from the outside and is one of the higher end international chains that he’s never personally stayed at before. The building is fairly close to the highway and his eyes never leave it as Bruce takes the exit. It feels good to stand up straight and stretch in the parking lot after Bruce parks with almost 8 hours driving behind them.

“Suitcases,” Clark reminds as Bruce gets out once the car roof is back in place. The other young man hums as he reaches upwards then goes back inside. Bruce pulls their suitcases out and doesn’t let Clark take his as they head inside. It’s bright and chilly inside with the air conditioning and there isn’t anyone else in the beautiful lobby except for the employee at the front desk who gives them a smile. They exchange a few pleasantries as Bruce pulls out his wallet and says they’re checking in.

“Okay, Mr. Wayne, I have you staying for one night, two guests, one bed, non-smoking?” the woman asks, sounding unconcerned by the reservation as Clark feels himself go hot. He can’t look at the woman with the fact that there’s two of them and just one bed. The logical part of his brain knows she doesn’t care, that she’s just doing her job, but the part of his brain that sometimes sounds like Ma and her old fashioned ways can’t believe that he’s going to be sleeping next to his boyfriend when they aren’t married. It’s not the first time, but it’s still makes Clark feel giddy, especially since this woman must assume that they’re be sharing the bed.

“Yup,” Bruce hums, nonchalant as ever as she checks them in then offers over two keycards. He and Clark head the elevators, go up to the fifth floor, then wander down the quiet hallway with their suitcases. The room is largerthan Clark expects with a big queen mattress the center of everything. Perhaps more distressing is that there’s a towel-shaped elephant holding a red heart box with Clark’s favorites chocolates and single red rose.

“Did you say we were on a honeymoon or something?” Clark asks nervously as he reaches for the rose, mind whirling in possibilities until he feels Bruce slide up behind him and hold around his arms, pinning them to his sides.

“I may have made a special request or two,” Bruce murmurs against his ear as he squeezes Clark gently. “But you’re sharing some of the chocolate.”

“After dinner I will,” Clark replies easily as he leans back into Bruce, twirling the rose between his fingers. “Where did you say we were eating tonight?”

“I know I said we could just look around, but now I’m thinking we just get room service. It won’t be amazing, but I’m sure it won’t be bad either. We could just get comfortable here, not leave the rest of the night.” Bruce presses a single lingering kiss against Clark’s neck as he releases and slips away. “Up to you.”

It takes a few seconds for Clark to focus on reality that isn’t the tingling spot on his neck to squeak out, “Room service is fine.”

“Great,” hums Bruce, sounding satisfied. “Go check out the bathroom, I’ll find us a menu.”

The bathroom is all white and black with a big tub that Clark just knows he and Bruce are going to take advantage of. He heads back out with a racing pulse and finds Bruce stretched out on top of the covers in nothing but jeans and knowing smile.

“You want to eat before or after we use that tub?”

Clark swallows thickly. “Before.”

The baked chicken, steamed broccoli, and mashed potatoes are nothing to write home about but it’s a decent, hot meal. They eat quickly, clean-up the mess, then Bruce heads to the bathroom as Clark heads to his suitcase.

“You want to rinse off first?” he calls.

“Please.”

They shower together which, predictably, turns into a prolonged make out session. Before things go too far or one of them can get a concussion Clark breaks away.

“I want to turn into prune.” Which is not exactly the sexiest thing he could have said judging by Bruce’s expression but he takes the hint.

Before too long they have the tub filled and jets on with Bruce settled against Clark’s front. The lights are dimmed, and the air smells like lavender. Clark rubs his hands up and down Bruce’s thighs under the water as he shamelessly sucks and bites at Bruce’s neck. There’s no roommates to walk in on them or parents on phones to disturb them.

* * *

Clark looks around a bit like a wild bird searching for predators much to Bruce’s amusement and then outright laughter. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, relax, would you?”

“I just don’t want to hit anyone,” Clark snaps back as he leans back in the driver’s seat and down at his feet. There’s three peddles. He hasn’t driven manual since he first got his license. He knows he’s rusty and the fact that he’s getting back into the swing of things in a car that costs more than his college tuition has him beyond nervous.

“There’s nothing to hit,” chuckles Bruce who looks quite smug in the passenger seat and a short-sleeve button-up shirt done up to only his to stomach. It’s just past noon and despite the warm weather Clark knows Bruce just likes to tease Clark with the various visible love bites and bruises across his chest and along his neck. “Besides, it’s not like I’m actually teaching you. This is isn’t your first time, you know what to do.”

Bruce unintentionally eats those words when Clark tries to get the car into first gear and stalls out violently enough to send Bruce into the dashboard. He holds a hand over his aching forehead as Clark meekly starts the car again.

“Sorry,” Clark murmurs as he looks over.

“Consider me warned,” Bruce replies somewhat darkly. He lowers his center of gravity and braces himself as best he can when Clark tries again. It obvious what the problem is when Clark gets the car going then quickly shifts into second. He puts his hand over Clark’s which is clamped on the gearshift.

“It’s a Mercedes, not a tractor: you don’t need to shift like a trucker. Gentle.” Clark’s grip loosens up a bit before Bruce readjusts his hand to just three fingers then drops his own voice to nearly a purr.

“Gentle, Clark, gentle. Think like last night, how you gentle you were with me.”

This time Bruce is ready when the car’s brakes slam and try to send him through the windshield. He grins at Clark’s shocked expression before tipping his chin. “Eyes on the road, thought you didn’t want to hit anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- You look outside: Ah, it is snowing! But look closer. Those are not snowflakes falling from the sky! What is it snowing at your house?


	42. Not Snowflakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You look outside: Ah, it is snowing! But look closer. Those are not snowflakes falling from the sky! What is it snowing at your house?
> 
> Warnings for drinking. Featuring Roy/Jason.

Jason takes one look out the kitchen window as he waits for his waffles in the toaster to finish and smiles when he finds it snowing. He keeps drinking his post-bender hangover remedy and stares at the flakes before squinting a bit. One hand braces on the countertop to let him lean closer to the window as he hears Roy enter the kitchen with a pained groan.

“I think I’m still drunk,” Roy bemoans as the fridge opens while Jason continues to stare. “I’m stealing your nasty hangover drink then passing out again.”

“You and me both,” Jason mumbles as he lowers his mug. “You sure there wasn’t anything in those brownies Tim brought?” The ones that Jason had taken a bite of that morning to try and settle his stomach, which he is actively regretting.

“Mostly sure, why?”

“I think I’m tripping,” Jason states simply as he watches tulips and calla lilies and spider mums rain down like a snow flurry. He gestures with his free hand. “You see this?”

Roy ambles over, leans against Jason from behind, them hums. “Shit, I am seeing this.”

“I’m gonna kill Tim,” Jason mumbles as he shuts his eyes just in time to hear the toaster pop up his waffles.

“Kill Kon, you know he’s the one who likes to fuck with Tim’s baking.”

They spend most of the day in Jason’s bed, wading away their hangovers and watching the flowers fall. It isn’t until that night that Jason gets a call that Poison Ivy’s been put away and her flower storm should abate by midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What have you been able to accomplish this year that you are really proud of?


	43. AccomplishThis Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What have you been able to accomplish this year that you are really proud of?
> 
> No warnings. Featuring: The Justice League.

Year-end reviews for the Justice League are overall tolerated with mixed feelings. While everyone of course likes to get praise or complimented for their work, no one really likes the critiques. It always hurts just a little to be told what you did wrong or could do better on. No one likes the critiques when it comes from Batman and his notorious list that painfully details the last 365 days of failures, missed opportunities, and mistakes. Despite complaints and requests that he ease up on the negatives, that year-end reviews are supposed to help Leaguers improve in the future instead of knock them down, he doesn’t seem to understand.

It reaches a head with Captain Marvel’s review.

“Batman,” Superman hisses as he looks between Captain Marvel who’s visibly trying to hold back tears as Batman goes down the extensive list of that year’s mishaps like he’s reading a grocery list. He keeps going as Captain Marvel squirms on the chair at the round table where the Founding Members start to look just as uncomfortable as the reviewee. It only takes a few more seconds before the silent tears start to roll, but Captain Marvel doesn’t move to wipe them away.

“Hey,” Flash snaps, loud enough to stop Batman for a moment before he continues on. “I said hey!”

That gets Batman to pause and tilt his head. “I wasn’t finished yet, Flash.” He sounds glacial.

“I think we get the point,” Flash replies sitting back then leaning forward with his hands clasped on the table. “Look, Captain Marvel is new, he made some mistakes which we addressed at the time they happened, I don’t really think we need to bring them up with a play-by-play. He’s actually doing really good for his year, right, guys?”

Flash looks over at Captain Marvel with a smile who in turn tries to smile back but can’t quite muster it as his shoulders slump further down. He sniffles a bit.

“Agreed,” Wonder Woman chimes in. “I-”

“There’s no point in ignoring the faults he made this year,” Batman snaps back at Wonder Woman. “I’m here to ensure that past mistakes are not made again. As I was saying, July 7, Grand Canyon National Park…”

Batman gets through two more points where Captain Marvel failed to act or acted faulty as the hero in questions shrinks down farther before bolting from the room with a sob.

Superman is the first to the react as the white cape disappears around the corner. “I got him.” He flies right over the table in a blur of red and blue as he goes after Captain Marvel while the whole table turns to Batman who slowly looks around.

“What?”

“You are an asshole,” Green Lantern states simply as he pushes back from his spot. “I get that we need to look back on past mistakes and everything, but there’s a nice, constructive way of doing it.”

“I’m not here to be nice, Lantern.”

“No, obviously you aren’t.”

Green Lantern’s body glows as he too starts to float off. “I’m going to help by reminding Captain Marvel what a Grade A tool you are.”

“Oh, I’m in!” Flash agrees as he lifts a hand with a smile before glaring at Batman. The opposition between his expressions take a few other members off guard. “He’s still a kid, maybe you forgot about that.”

* * *

The next time year-end reviews roll around everyone seems to suddenly remember that Batman made Captain Marvel cry last time. Despite the fact Batman apologized doesn’t seem to be on anyone’s minds as even more than the normal amount of people avoid Batman with hard gazes or mutterings about what a mean person he is. Some of the high-school level behavior gets knocked off when Batman goes nuclear on Zatanna and Blue Beetle who ask if he’s taking any sensitivity classes lately in anticipation of the upcoming reviews. Luckily Superman and Green Arrow are there to take Batman away who’s admittedly been extra Batman-y as of late.

“What is going on with you?” Superman demands as he shoves Batman into a thankfully empty control room with Green Arrow coming in after.

“You’ve been a special brand of jerk for the past month,” he adds at Batman backs himself into the corner of the room in what could only be described as defensive position. His hands are shaking as he sinks into his knees a bit, like he’s expecting to be attacked.

“I’m fine,” he snarls back as Superman holds out his hands.

“Easy, we don’t want to fight,” he soothes as Green Arrow snorts.

“Maybe we should, might take him down a few pegs.”

The conversation ends shortly thereafter when Batman admits he’s a bit short tempered because he’s been pulling longer hours. When pressed about why he evades and promises to get some more sleep.

The reason as to Batman’s extra strange behavior comes to light on the first day of year-end review. Each Founding Member finds a notecard in front of their chair on the table with small gift holding it down when they meet with a message from Batman that he will be late. The notecard lists the member’s three top accomplishments of the year and then three mildly-worded suggestions to work on for the next year.

“Is anyone mildly freaked out by this?” Green Lantern asks as a green-construct hand carefully lifts up a 12-pack of his favorite fall, limited edition beer. He eyes the cans and looks around to where everyone else is investigating their own items with intrigue.

“This very odd,” Wonder Woman murmurs as she opens a silver container that is cold to touch. Inside there’s a hefty amount of what looks like vanilla ice cream. The plastic spoon makes more sense as she picks it up. She looks between the spoon and container then follows Superman’s gaze to Batman’s empty spot where not a single thing lies.

“Is this a security breech?” asks Flash as he flips the notecard around like it might hold some type of clue. There’s a package of Twizzlers and another box of high-end chocolates filled with lemon frosting. It’s a little alarming because he has the exact same box or rather four of them back at home as his new favorite dessert.

“I don’t think we’ve been compromised,” Superman murmurs as he fingers a small USB in familiar looking handwriting that only reads “white noise sounds.”

As if on cue Batman sweeps into the room like he’s on a warpath. What little of his face is exposed looks horrible as he goes right to his chair with a stack of papers. He puts the papers down, sits, then start clicking buttons that brings up the profiles for the reviewees.

“Red Tornado will be here momentarily,” he says gruffly, going through motions to prepare for the reviews like no one else is staring at him. “Hawkgirl had something come up so her slot will be taken by Black Canary.” He looks up. “Is there an issue?”

“Yeah, I think we’ve been compromised,” Flash says as he gestures to his candy with his notecard. “All of us!”

Batman moves his head in the way that everyone knows he’s actually rolling his eyes. “I took the liberty of consolidating everyone’s reviews for the Founding Members to what you see before you. Everyone here is well aware of their performance and I didn’t see the point in wasting more time telling you what you already know.”

It takes a moment before Martian Manhunter speaks up, sounding somewhat skeptical. “You…are not going to review us?”

“I already put the most pertinent information on those notecards,” Batman replies brusquely. “If you want a more depth review you can ask me.”

“Wait, you’re not going to roast us?” Aquaman gapes.

“No.”

“And the gifts?” Wonder Woman asks, holding her container out a bit. “These are from you?”

At that Batman shifts a bit. “Yes.”

“Why?” comes the chorus, enough to make Batman wince a bit.

“It’s a trial run to the new review process to make it more…palatable. I’ll be taking your feedback after we complete today’s reviews, as well as everyone else’s after their slot.”

“Well bury me shallow, Spooky’s got a heart after all,” Green Lantern chuckles. “Thanks!”

More murmurs of thanks and appreciation go up as Superman frowns a bit. “You're taking feedback from everyone?”

“Yes.”

“I mean everyone, every Leaguer?”

“Yes.”

“You got something for everyone?” Wonder Woman echoes, to which Batman nods.

“As I said, it’s a trial run. I couldn’t limit the test pool to just Founders, and the wider the pool the more accurate the results.”

The pieces fit together beautifully as Superman stares. “You’ve been working on this for weeks, months even.”

Batman shrugs a bit as he starts dividing the stack of paper. “Yes.”

“It’s why you’ve been exhausted, right?”

“…Yes.”

“You’ve been stalking every member of the Justice League to get them something they’d like?” Flash asks slowly which earns a glare from Batman.

“Of course not.” He starts making a new stack of papers as there’s a knock the door. He calls Red Tornado in who sits on the lone empty chair.

The review takes about 15 minutes long where Batman lists 3 strengths and 3 weaknesses. The weaknesses are told in a manner that are more an of overview while the strengths are a much more in-depth review of what went right or good. It ends with Batman sending Red Tornado off with instructions to go to the hanger where Nightwing will be distributing a summary of his review, sealed of course, and a new piece of “review material” that’s in the trial run phase. Everyone just calls it a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Do you have a tattoo?


	44. Tattoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you have a tattoo? What is it and why did you get it? 
> 
> Special Thanksgiving update. I know I'll be reading a lot more the next few days, and I'm very thankful for all the authors out there.
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Dick and Bruce.

A hot shower after a cold patrol is one of the best feelings in the world. The fact that Dick knows that Alfred is finishing up everyone’s favorite hot beverages for them to drink while they unwind before tucking in for the rest of the night makes any lingering stress fade away. He ducks under the stream of steaming water to get rid of the suds and out of the corner of his eye sees Tim standing under his own waterfall face first, unmoving. Right behind him and out of sight is Bruce.

It seems some things never change when the sound of water on tile lessens a bit and Dick hears Bruce murmur that he’ll meet them upstairs. Bruce never takes the longest in the showers, always quick and efficient as far as Dick is concerned. It’s been weeks since he’s stayed overnight and he remembers at Bruce’s next words why that was so. He meant to tell Bruce, when the moment was right of course. He had to ease the man into the idea instead of just throwing it at him because he knew Bruce would react just like he did.

“What is on your back?”

Dick feels himself go cold as he half turns around to find Bruce pointedly staring at him. He slaps at the knob to stop the water then snatches his towel off the little hanger outside the range of the spray. He hastily covers around his hips the tries to wag a finger at Bruce.

“No peeking,” he starts, aiming for teasing when Bruce grabs at his wrist. It doesn’t hurt, not at all, but it’s a strong grip that betrays how upset Bruce is.

“What. Is. On. Your. Back.”

In just those five words Dick goes from twenty-five to fifteen as he weakly attempts to pull free with a whine. “I was going to tell you.”

“Richard John Grayson!”

“Oh, full name, you’re in trouble,” sing-songs Tim in a whisper who’s also cut his shower short and covered up to watch the drama from a safe distance.

“I was going to tell you, I swear,” Dick repeats as he pulls a bit harder. He thinks for a moment Bruce might try to get his arm behind his back but instead Bruce lets go in a flash. His hand clamps around air as he snarls.

“What did you do?”

“It’s just a tattoo,” Dick warbles as he decides denying or hiding anything won’t do him any favors. He turns around and pulls the towel below the dimples on his back to expose the couple inches worth of black ink shaped like a bat set off to the right side of his body. It’s healed up perfectly. “See? Tiny!”

Bruce looks like he’s close to an aneurysm as he stares before Dick hitches the towel up and hides it before turning around.

“Why.”

Dick reaches out to Bruce who steps back. “You listen to me and I’ll tell you.”

Bruce actually growls then turns and leaves. Dick tries calling him a few times before slumping in defeat. He’ll give Bruce a little space, or however long it takes for him to get dressed and go upstairs where drinks are. Maybe having Alfred around will make things a little easier.

“Oh shut it,” he snaps at Tim who snickers, looking somewhat smug as he folds his arms.

“I told you he’d blow a gasket. You could have gotten anything else, and you chose his symbol.”

“I already told you why I got it, I’m not explaining it again.”

“Whatever. I do still think it’s cool even if Bruce is going to kill you before sunrise.”

Dick frowns further. “He won’t kill me.”

“He might.”

“He won’t. Besides,” Dick says as he heads out of the showers while slicking his hair back. “He’ll forgot all about me when I tell him it’s a matching tattoo to someone else.”

Tim snorts. “If Bruce doesn’t kill you, Jason will then!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Write about something you frequently forget.


	45. Something You Frequently Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write about something you frequently forget.
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Bruce and Jason.

With Dick it’s easy: the boy didn’t grow up in luxury but he wasn’t some kid right out of Crime Alley from a broken home and broke bank account. Dick knows better than most his age about hard work and rewards for same. He takes to an allowance like a duck to water and Bruce doesn’t have to do much except take Dick to the bank once a month when he accumulates enough to get his own savings account. On occasion he does have to watch Dick eat an alarming amount of candy and not say a word “because I bought this myself B, with my allowance, and I’m not sharing any with you. Buy your own.”

With Jason it is so much harder. At the first mention of an allowance Jason goes ballistic. It takes Alfred and no small amount of patience to assure the boy that an allowance does not come with any strings attached and more importantly there is absolutely no untoward behavior involved. Right after that conversation when Alfred leaves Jason in the kitchen next to the butcher block of knives and hot chocolate Bruce regrets ever bringing it up in the first place as he gets informed of why his newest son went feral over the idea.

It takes more time before Jason warms up to the idea but still things don’t go well once it’s implemented. The first problem becomes security. Jason doesn’t have enough for a real bank account right off the bat and the idea of a piggy bank until that time comes is laughable.

“Anyone could break into a stupid ceramic pig.”

While there’s no reason to doubt Wayne Manor security Bruce doesn’t be begrudge Jason’s suspicions. He grew up in Crime Alley where even the safest spots could be compromised in seconds. Instead of letting Jason squirrel away any paper bills in god knows where in the manor at the end of every week Jason goes with Bruce to the big bolted-to-the-floor, fire-proof safe in Bruce’s closest. Jason’s allowance gets a special place in a red envelope that Bruce keeps in the hidden, false bottom of safe. It amuses the boy to no end that his “pocket change” gets to sit with parts of Martha’s jewelry collection, Bruce’s last will and testament, other legal documents, and a couple old photographs.

Unlike with Dick who was easily able to divide his money between saving up and immediate spending cash Jason simply doesn’t have the experience of financial stability. The second problem with Jason’s allowance is that he won’t spend a cent. The first few months when Jason only keeps adding to his savings Bruce doesn’t think twice; the boy was a good saver. When six months pass and Jason hasn’t once asked Bruce for access to the safe to take anything out he gets concerned.

“You know you can spend your allowance whenever you want,” Bruce comments at dinner one night. “I know you’re putting it all in the safe. Alfred can open it for you if I’m not around.” The caveat to using Bruce’s safe was Jason wasn’t allowed to know how to open it and there’d be minimal complaints about that.

“Yeah, I know.”

Two more months pass and Jason still doesn’t spend anything. When directly confronted he stares at Bruce like the man’s just asked an incredibly stupid question.

“I got food and clothes and a roof over my head. There’s an actual working heater in the winter. I go to school. I got a library card. I ain’t wasting my money on anything stupid.”

The words of a survivor break Bruce’s heart and even worse, Jason doesn’t seem to understand what’s wrong or why Bruce keeps murmuring that he’s just a kid while wrapped up in a fierce hug.

“I’m a smart kid,” Jason insists as he hesitates then awkwardly pats Bruce’s back as best he can while his voice perks up. “If anything goes wrong and I gotta go live on my own I’ll be set for months! It’s great!”

The next day Bruce pulls Jason from school, takes him home, and sits him in front of the safe. The red envelope has turned in several red envelopes and Bruce hands one over that’s practically bursting at the seams.

“Jason, I know you want to save your allowance, but not because you’re afraid you’ll need it to live if something bad happens. You will never want for a home again, and you will never have to worry about eating or staying warm, okay?”

Jason eyes Bruce, clearly doubtful. He clutches the envelope to his chest. Adults have done nothing but wrong him most of his young life.

“I’m, what do you call me, richer than god?” Bruce says unsurely which earns an impish smile. “I can weather a lot of financial hardships before we have to worry about the bills. A lot.”

“It’s your money,” Jason mumbles into his collarbones.

“Yes, but you are my responsibility.” Bruce then flicks the edge of the envelope. “I won’t make you, but I’d love to take you to the mall and watch you buy something stupid for yourself, just because you can.”

When Alfred arrives home after a day of errands he finds Jason and Bruce on the main steps and a large Slinky toy that crashes into a bright red yo-yo. Neither are items that Alfred recalls ever seeing before.

* * *

Bruce can’t bear to do anything with Jason’s saving account after his death. For months he just ignores it and the paper bank statements Jason signed up for. One afternoon he opens the mail, finds yet another statement, and in a fit of irrational anger and grief moves the balance of the account to a different bank with a new, higher interest rate and closes out the old one. He goes on to transfer the next year’s worth of what Jason would have gotten in his allowance in one shot then breaks down at his desk. He’s thankful he’s home and no one has to watch him scream or cry for the dead boy who won’t ever be able touch a cent. Once a year he adds Jason’s allowance to the account and tells himself he’ll one day donate it to something Jason would like. But just not this year. He can’t bear to lose the one flimsy connection to his second son.

And then Jason comes back after five years. Bruce forgets about the account until he and Jason reach the level where they can sit together in a room, unsupervised, and make terrible small talk for ten minutes before one of them leaves.

“Have you ever had something in your life that was important, but you would forget about for months at a time?” Bruce asks as he slides a folded-up piece of paper over to Jason. Jason reaches out but doesn’t open it.

“Sure, all the time even.”

“Then I need to tell you this is one of those types of things,” warns Bruce as Jason gives Bruce a skeptical look before unfolding the paper. His eyes skim the ink then return to Bruce.

“I’m not sure I get it. You have a bank account? I care, why?”

Bruce swallows against the lump in his throat. “Do you remember your allowance?”

Jason laughs and gives the paper a little shake. He’s far from the fourteen-year-old that bought his first slinky with his own allowance. “Easiest money I ever made.”

“I never did anything with it,” Bruce says quickly, feeling like his might lose his nerve. “I just moved it to a better bank. I forgot about it. I want you to take it back. It’s yours. It was always yours.”

It takes a few seconds as Jason looks at Bruce, the bank paper, then back at Bruce. “What?”

“That account,” Bruce says, a little slower, tipping his chin at Jason. “It’s not mine. It’s yours, with your allowance. I…I never stopped. I couldn’t. I want you to have it back. Do with it what you will.”

This time is takes Jason looks carefully at paper before he lowers it away from his eyes. “There’s five figures here.”

“I wouldn’t know, I never looked at the numbers that closely.”

“Bruce, there’s a big five figure amount here,” Jason repeats, sounding somewhat angry. “I’m no Tim, but I’m pretty sure my allowance would never get to half of what is here.”

“I gave you a raise. After…it doesn’t matter.”

Bruce shakes his head and gets up and Jason can’t figure out why the older man looks like he’s about to bolt. Sure they both get a little cagey still when it’s just the two of them, but normally it takes longer before high tails it out of there.

“It’s yours, I can swap you in as primary holder or have it transferred somewhere else or cashed out or put into your trust.”

“Bruce what are you-wait. Trust? What trust?”

Bruce looks like he’s made a huge mistake as his eyes go wide and he whispers, “I forgot about the trust. Automatic savings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Describe one odd item that you have in your purse or wallet right now.


	46. Odd Item

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Describe one odd item that you have in your purse or wallet right now.
> 
> No warnings. Featuring implied Tim/Kon.

“Kon, pizza’s almost here, grab my wallet from kitchen?” Tim calls without ever looking away from his three monitors that are running about twelve different programs. He ignores the grumble from the couch as Kon dutifully gets up. “Thank you.”

“You’re lucky I love you!” Kon replies as he goes to the kitchen and finds a simple black wallet on the counter. He opens it up to grab cash and frowns as a small metal square falls out. It’s fairly thin, no thicker than a finger, and it has moving parts as Kon pulls at it a bit. It only takes a few seconds for Kon to unfold the square into a knife with a razor-thin blade.

“Babe, why do you have a knife in your wallet?” he asks as he pokes himself with the tip, blinking at the shiny metal. 

“What?”

“You have a knife in your wallet, I want to know why,” Kon replies as he puts the knife aside to get the money.

“I don’t have a knife in my wallet?”

“A folding one. Here.”

Kon shows Tim the knife which makes Tim frown a bit. “Oh, right. Yeah. That knife.”

“I know you Bat-types are always prepared, but I don’t see why you’d carry this little toothpick around. You have to have something better. You know, like me.”

Tim snorts. “I think it’s some prototype from R&D. Small, lightweight, almost impossible to tell if you’re carrying, and durable. I’m pretty sure this model was scraped because the folding mechanisms would be completely useless if you actually had to stab someone with no notice.”

“So why’d you keep it?”

Tim shrugs a bit and points at the door just before the doorbell goes off. “Free knife.”

“I think you’ve been hanging out with Damian too much, babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Write a quick love story. The story must end badly.


	47. Love Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write a quick love story. The story must end badly.
> 
> No warnings. Featuring SuperBat.

The video goes viral, both amongst the general public and within certain private sectors. It’s only about ten seconds worth of grainy, muted security footage on top of Wayne Tower but it is ten seconds of history that no one will forget for some time. Talons are, in the public’s eye, just another myth or another type of costumed villain. In the private sectors, the well-informed know the Court of Owls and their Talons fell almost 7 years ago without one single sighting for the past three years.

Despite the quality of the video it’s obvious the Talon that crests the top of Wayne Tower isn’t just someone playing dress-up. No average joe could make it to the top of Gotham’s tallest tower, and there’s something about the way the Talon moves that says accomplished predator. There’s no hesitance in it’s steps as it moves away from the ledge while adjusting the head covering. No more than two seconds later another Talon walks in frame from the right. One arm reaches out to the first Talon, the first one reaches back with the less-armored hand. Their hands clasp as the second Talon presses up against the first, bumps their faces together that might be able to pass as a nuzzle as it shifts its head left and right a couple times before leaning away.

If two Talons having some type of rendezvous wasn’t enough the last couple seconds of the video show the two, hand-in-hand, climb on top of the ledge, open their arms out, look at each other, then fall. No bodies were found, and no one really knows where to start. Talons were extinct, but two to be sighted in one night? And to be so affectionate?

“I wanna name them,” Jason says as he, Dick, and Bruce sit together in the cave to go over the footage. It’s the first time they’ve watched the recording together since security brought it to the top ranking officials at Wayne Enterprise’s attention two days ago. “I’m gonna call that first one Everest, and the second one is gonna be Dearest.”

“What if I want to name them, though?” Dick asks around a mouthful of popcorn with his feet up on the console as Bruce toggles the footage backwards to the two right before their fall.

“We’re not naming the undead homicidal assassins,” he says firmly as he tries zooming in more. There’s not a shred of skin visible on either and while both could easily be using structured uniforms to hide their true forms, both have more masculine frames akin to professional football players.

“Fine, you can name one of them then,” Jason replies sourly as he shifts forward in his chair and adjusts his arms. Dicks hums thoughtfully as Bruce tries to pinpoint their exact heights using old blueprints from the tower’s construction for reference.

“I actually like Everest and Dearest, it’s cute,” Dick says after a bit. “Do they get a couple’s name? Like Brangelina.”

Bruce growls out, “Dick” which makes Dick snort.

“What?”

“You’re not giving these Talons a couple name.”

The next morning Dick tweets out about the Talon video, that’s it’s both frightening, creepy yet adorable, and #GothamLovebirds starts to trend by that evening. It gets picked up by the local news station and features with a number of other prominent Gotham citizens who have also commented. The Mayor and Police Department both assure Gotham that despite the sighting there are no confirmed deaths, attacks, thefts or any other type of nefarious reports linked to the Talons. One of the parody Arkum Asylum accounts promises the two a shared cell when they get captured. For whatever reason Gotham National Bank chimes in and calls them a power couple.

The Justice League pointedly makes no comment when asked by the media and directs any and all question about the Talons to Batman. That of course leads no where as Batman does not do media. Batman himself has nothing to say to the Justice League except he’s working on it.

Three months pass before another sighting, this time in Metropolis. This time there’s various pictures and videos of the two Talons assisting fire fighters evacuate a burning apartment building. One Talon emerges with two people at ground level while the other one comes out of a five-story window at a run with two victims. Screams echo behind the barricades as the Talon drops then lands with ease. The people get eased down then the Talon shoots back into the building in a blur in a feat than no human could ever pull off.

That is the segment that get replayed and overanalyzed, and even Batman seems at a loss when a few select members hold an emergency meeting. He suggests a meta since all Talons he’s ever encountered were once humans, crafted into extraordinary humans, but still just human. Never had one flown.

“Is it Everest or Dearest that flies?” Green Lantern asks with a tilt of his lips, earning more than a few glares.

“If you buy into that naming nonsense, apparently it’s Dearest,” says Batman, sounding sour as always. If anything he sounds more peeved and no one is surprised. Fondly referred to as “his” Talons, they’ve left his city, left him no clues, and are still a puzzle that he hasn’t solved.

“They didn’t hurt anyone,” Superman says, sounding nervous. He was apparently in South America at the time, and there’s speculation about him feeling guilty that some assassins took his place.

“Not this time, at least,” Batman huffs. “They’re not exactly known for that.”

“Maybe they’re different,” Superman suggests, giving a courtesy wince as Batman slams his hands down the table.

“Talons are assassins, and we need to get them!”

* * *

“You could have gone a little easier on me,” Superman mumbles as he side-eyes Batman from their spot on the Daily Planet ring. It’s a cloudy night that promises a heavy downpour of rain.

“And risk anyone suspecting us? No.”

Superman almost tries to press his point but then there’s a body shifting besides his own, shoulders down to hips touching. He blinks when one hand, clad in black armor, grasps his own.

“Sorry,” murmurs Batman as his head tips over to Superman’s shoulder. “I was careless, and it cost us.”

Superman lifts an arm and puts it along Batman’s shoulders. “You can’t just blame yourself; I’m at much as fault as you are, if not more. I won’t say it was a great idea, but it did give us some fun for a bit.”

“I’ll come up with a better idea.”

“Or we come clean to everyone. We shouldn’t have to hide.”

“You know why we can’t.”

“I, I know, but maybe-”

“Kal, no. I’ll put the Talon uniforms back into storage, we’ll pretend it never happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Why do you think some people are successful in life and others are not?


	48. Successful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do you think some people are successful in life and others are not?
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Jason and Bruce.
> 
> Written on a not great day back in April. It's not "all men", but it sure feels it some days especially when I turn on the news.

“It’s a pretty philosophical question, don’t you think?” Bruce asks as he turns his laptop around to show Jason that month’s Wayne Enterprises food-for-thought prompt. He watches Jason’s eyes read the line before the younger man sits back with a snort.

“Please, there’s only one answer to that,” he says dryly. “Some people are born rich, white, cis, het, men. If you hit any one of those you automatically have a step up over anyone else. The more you tick, the more you win without having to try.”

Bruce frowns as he spins the screen back around. “I admit those…privileges have their advantages.”

Jason points the end of a switchblade at Bruce, and Bruce is thankful they’re tucked in Bruce’s office at home where there are no witnesses. Except for Alfred. But that man has seen it all.

“I am glad you said that because if you didn’t realize you were a rare breed I was going to stab you.”

“Rare breed?”

A couple knocks on the door signal Alfred’s arrival with lunch on a silver covered tray. Jason repeats the question for Alfred’s benefit which earns a wry smile when Jason says his answer.

“It’s actually kinda nice that Bruce is the only one of those around here,” Jason hums as he takes a bowl of soup and sandwich on a plate off the tray.

“Only one of what?” Bruce asks, sounding a bit offended. He immediately regrets opening his mouth as Jason starts to tick off his fingers, one by one. His voice gets smugger the longer he goes.

“Dick is bi and not white.”

“Tim is non-binary and not white.”

“You may be his father but Damian sure as hell ain’t white, and I’d bet my next paycheck not-straight with how I’ve seen him look at Jon.”

“Duke is not white, pretty sure he’s straight though. Maybe. That one I can’t actually confirm.”

Jason makes a fist as his eyes narrow. “I’m gay, so get fucked.”

Bruce doesn’t say a word as he feels himself pale. He’s created some type of monster on a warpath.

“All the girls are girls so hello glass ceiling, and on top of that Cass is not white and Stephanie is a raging lesbian. Oh, and none of us, except Tim, and maybe Damian if you count the whole League of Assassins Empire he was supposed to inherit, come from loaded backgrounds.”

“Alfred?” Bruce croaks out, and it’s hard to tell if he’s saying Alfred fits the same mold or if he’s requesting assistance.

“Technically Alf is a butler so he can’t be rich. No offense, Alf. But he’s still the coolest white, cis, het, man I know.”

“Thank you, Master Jason.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Look around you and choose an object in the room. Now write something from the point of view of that object.


	49. Object Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look around you and choose an object in the room. Now write something from the point of view of that object.
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Mer!Clark and Bruce.

The waterproof flashlight is almost as old as Bruce but still functions perfectly despite its age. It spends most of its time in another waterproof box that sits inside a carved out shelf in the cliff that Wayne Manor sits atop. During warmer months the box is generally accompanied by bottles of water, sunscreen, or snacks. The flashlight only comes out at sunset or night though Bruce has gotten better at taking it out of the box quietly. He flicks it on then sets it up so the beam gazes upwards as he strips out of his clothes until he’s down to just his bathing suit. He puts the bundle onto the shelf then takes the flashlight. As his feet sink into the sand he wonders what the device would say about the things its seen.

“Clark,” Bruce hisses as he steps into the water that curls in gentle waves against the shore. “Clark!”

The beam of light searches farther out and makes a few passes until the surface breaks and a head pops up. Bruce can’t help the big grin that makes his mouth hurt as he rushes in deeper and keeps the lone figure in the spotlight. The flashlight’s been outfitted with a length of braided lanyard that Bruce has already tightened across his body so he can’t lose it even when he drops it to bring his arms forward as he dives in. He doesn’t get too far out when something smooth brushes across his calves while a new current pulls at his knees. Instead of panic he merely lets himself float up and then swipes a hand over his face as he blinks.

“Hi Clark,” he breathes as the flashlight turns gently underwater, reflecting off dark red and blue scales to a long tailfin. “Let’s go to the lighthouse, ok?”

The merboy with what looks like red paint over his eyes smiles with a flash of sharp incisors. His webbed hand curls around Bruce’s hand before he dives under and tows Bruce out to the big rock that peeks up from the ocean farther out. Bruce clambers onto the rock that luckily is shaped mostly like a triangle and overlooks the ocean. He takes care in wedging the flashlight into a hole that took him weeks to carve out while Clark shimmies out of the water and up the rock. His skin is slick, not just from the water, making it harder for Bruce to grab and lend his own strength. Pulling on Clark’s tail seems too harsh, even if Clark promises it doesn’t hurt.

Eventually the two make it to top of the rock and hang their arms off the edge as they watch the last of the sunset. The flashlight becomes a small torch, their lighthouse, as Bruce rolls over onto his back and kicks at Clark’s tail playfully.

“What’s on your face?”

“Special day,” Clark replies as Bruce squints to watch the gills at Clark’s throat flutter. “Everyone in my pod is wearing it.”

He explains the mer-holiday and lets Bruce touch the color that is apparently from some special type of underwater plant. It doesn’t smear and Clark promises he’ll bring whatever’s left the next day so Bruce can try it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Write about a memory you have related to a campfire.


	50. Memory Related to a Campfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write about a memory you have related to a campfire.
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Jason, Bruce, Dick, and Damian.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Jason flails backwards and lands on his back in the dirt with a thump while his flaming hotdog burns brightly on the end of the stick. Everyone else laughs at Jason’s failure while Bruce grabs Jason’s wrist and blows out the hotdog before peering down at Jason. He looks absolutely murderous as the light from the campfire casts shadows his face in soft, ever-moving shapes.

“Don’t say it.”

“I like crispy hotdogs,” Bruce says simply as he helps Jason back onto the log. Jason grumbles and hunches over but hands over his stick to Bruce who looks delighted.

“City boy,” Dick coos from across the fire where he and Damian are cuddled under a striped blanket with their own stash of vegan products for roasting and cooking. There’s three marshmallows on Damian’s stick turning golden brown while Dick has jammed two tofu-dogs onto the end of a thin metal rod. The pair look thick as thieves as Damian offers his own toothy smile at Jason as Dick turns to nuzzle against Damian’s temple briefly.

“Poor Todd, and here I thought cooking was one of your few skills,” he taunts as Bruce audibly munches on the blackened hotdog, looking quite happy.

“Shut up, some us of weren’t born in a barn,” Jason snaps as he leans over to the cooler to grab another hotdog. He grimaces a bit as he holds onto the raw pseudo-meat and waits for Bruce to finish his mistake before he gets his stick back. This time he keeps the end higher up, just above the flames.

“I could go for one more,” Bruce offers as he pats around for his own stick, previously whittled down to a point. He swipes the end against his thigh to get rid of the excess dirt then sticks it into the fire for a couple seconds before pulling it out.

“Nope, this one is mine.”

“If he doesn’t manage to burn it again,” adds Damian softly as he takes his marshmallows out. He builds a line of s’mores with quick hands and bites one with a satisfied hum.

“I told you you’d like them, didn’t I?” Bruce asks as Damian pushes the second into Dick’s awaiting mouth before the youngest frees himself from the blanket. He moves around the fire to Bruce who accepts the last one in his free hand.

“None for me?” mocks Jason as Damian sticks out his tongue then returns to Dick who lifts up the blanket to make space. Damian slips under then gets comfortable against Dick’s side.

“Jaylad,” chimes Bruce, sounding amused.

“Shit!”

Jason narrowly avoids burning his second hotdog in his distraction. He refocuses and eventually gets a perfectly roasted hotdog for his efforts. It tastes delicious. After two more he weaves dried leaves on to his stick and watches them burn while Bruce tells them tales from his early training days. His low voice rumbles as it always does, but instead of boring or grating Jason is surprised to find the tone rather soothing as the temperature against his back cools.

They’re far out on Wayne Manor grounds, but it feels like the middle of no where. There’s nothing but trees as far as they can see, except for a small stack of gear and a constructed tent just big enough to fit all 4 of them. It’s only for a long weekend, but it’s better than nothing.

The campfire burns down and Bruce can’t help but smile as he watches Dick and Damian fall asleep against one another. All of them have been particularly overworked, even Jason who doesn’t look overly tired as he peers over at Bruce with an arched eyebrow.

“Do we have to put the kiddies to bed?” he asks quietly before nodding across the fire. Bruce shakes his head and chuckles softly as he pushes himself upwards.

“I’ll get them tucked in, I’ll join you after.”

Jason snorts and watches Bruce go over to the pair and crouch down by Damian’s side. He can’t hear what Bruce says but Damian doesn’t fight when the man peels open the blanket and easily picks up Damian who looks like a regular, overtired kid. The blanket gets tucked back around Dick who stirs briefly before settling when Bruce caresses the top of his head and lowly promise he’ll be back.

For a moment Jason feels like they’re any other family as Bruce walks into the darkness and over towards their tent. His disappears for a bit then comes back into the light. He kneels by Dick who grumbles a bit and insists on staying up a little longer.

“We can have another campfire tomorrow night, chum, promise.”

“Promise?” Dick whines as he’s hefted upwards before curling into Bruce who nods.

“Promise.”

Bruce returns after depositing Dick in the tent then sits next to Jason who pokes at the fire. He initially ignores it when the older man shifts over until their thighs touch and tries to shrug off the arm that comes across his back but gives up before Bruce gives in. The extra warmth is kind of nice, and unlike most nights together neither are bathing in sweat or blood. Instead there’s fairly clean air, smell of nature, and of course smoke. If he moves just a bit closer to Bruce and arches a bit under the arm Bruce doesn’t say a word. Instead he gets a better hold against Jason and strokes over the outside of his bicep.

“You gonna make a speech or something?” asks Jason quietly as the last full log crackles then pops some sparks upwards.

“Can’t I just sit here quietly with my son?” Bruce replies just as gently as he pushes his luck and leans against Jason, letting his head drop against dark waves. He’s normally not one to press physical contact, nevertheless with Jason, but sometimes he needs a reminder that he can feel against his own body.

“I guess.”

They sit in silence, but it’s comfortable. The fire dies out on its own and Bruce dumps a gallon a water on it to be sure before he and Jason retire to the tent. A single lantern on its lowest setting gives them enough light to move by as they change into sweatpants and long-sleeved shirts and toss their dirty clothes off to the side. There’s four heavy duty sleeping bags, but two are completely unzipped. One is stretched out under Dick and Damian while the other is used as a blanket over them. Damian is curled up in a ball with Dick against his back; both look exhausted and Bruce can only hope Damian will sleep past sunrise.

“Come on, hop in,” tuts Bruce. Jason carefully crawls into his sleeping bag and gets comfortable before the tent goes dark. There’s the sounds of shifting and a slight grunt from Bruce when something pops.

“You good?” whispers Jason as he pulls his extra blanket up over his shoulder and tucks it under his chin.

“Fine.”

It takes a while for Jason to actually fall asleep. He feels safe, and not just because he has Batman against his back, Nightwing in front of him, plus Robin. The setting is just too bizarre for him to drift off quickly. His mind keeps reminding him that he, Gotham born-bred-and-raised Jason Todd, is in a tent in the woods. There aren’t any chirping crickets or a bubbling brook; it’s quiet, with only a hint of wind and creaking trees. Everyone’s breathing softly when Jason really strains himself to listen. It’s almost too peaceful if he’s honest with himself, and he regrets not bringing a noisemaker or headphones.

“Jay?”

It’s Bruce, and he sounds groggy, like he still might be asleep. Jason turns over and squints as he pushes himself up onto an arm. He can barely make out Bruce and hears rather than sees Bruce reach out and pat over his hip.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Too quiet,” Jason murmurs as he lets himself rest back down. “Not used to it.”

“Okay.”

Jason thinks Bruce will leave him alone, let him pass out in due time, but instead Bruce starts to paw at him. They wake up Dick and Damian who groan as Jason blames Bruce for the disturbance.

“Just come here,” Bruce rumbles until Jason is half-laying on Bruce just to avoid a fight with the other two. Jason doesn’t protest when Bruce tells him to sit up for a second and doesn’t ask when Bruce pulls off his shirt. He does resist when Bruce pulls him back down because there is no reason for skin cuddling.

“Trust me,” Bruce slurs as he gets a decent grip on Jason’s head and a little roughly pulls at his hair until Jason’s ear sets over his heart.

“Crazy,” Jason hisses back, but within minutes he falls asleep to Bruce’s heartbeat.

He wakes up in the same position with the added embarrassment of his thumb in his mouth. It’s habit he can’t explain that started after Bruce took him in. He rolls over as he pulls his thumb out of his mouth and wonders how late it is judging by the amount of sunlight that’s trying to break through the tent. He freezes after he rolls over as he’s wiping his finger against his arm to find Dick sitting up with Damian cradled in his arms like an oversized baby. One of the extra blankets they packed is hung over his shoulders, and Dick puts a finger over his lips in the universal sign of keep quiet. He looks wide awake, and afraid.

“The hell?” Jason starts as he looks at Damian. There’s silent tears on his cheeks. Before Jason can talk again Dick hisses at him to be quiet, looks at Damian, then back at Jason.

Dick mouths “nightmare” and it’s enough to ease Jason’s worries. They’ve all been there, and frankly Dick seems like he has everything under control. Jason snuggles back down against his pillow and tries to fall back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What is a memory you would like to erase?


	51. Memory You Would Like to Erase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is a memory you would like to erase?
> 
> Warnings for excessive drinking. Featuring age-swap baby brother Dick and big brother Jason.
> 
> A very short, special holiday update. Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

“Hey, Dick, you remember your 21st birthday?”

Dick hums around a mouthful of 23rd birthday cake as he stares at Jason who looks a little smug.

“You know I don’t,” Dick replies with a slight sniff. “I don’t remember that night or the next 12 hours.”

* * *

It’s Dick’s 21st birthday and Bruce regrets ever telling Jason that he could plan his baby brother’s celebration. Despite being 5 years older than Dick, Jason sometimes acts half his age in the most mischievous ways. Bruce knows there’s going to be alcohol, too much alcohol, but his worry doubles when Jason lays out their plans for the night. Dinner at a steakhouse is to be followed by bar hopping and clubbing until Dick can’t hold himself up any longer.

“There’s no need to drink just because he legally can,” Bruce reminds as he steps up into a flashy SUV that Jason’s hired for the night to make sure all of them can drink freely and not worry about getting home safely.

“It’s his 21st birthday, of course he’s going to drink,” Jason crows back as he settles onto one of the seats while Dick follows last. He’s dressed impeccably for now and knows there’s a different set of clothing for after dinner that Jason promises he’ll like more.

Dick starts drinking before the appetizers come much to Bruce’s disappointment. By the time dessert rolls around he’s a little tipsy, all easy smiles and generous giggles. He nuzzles up against Bruce in the car and shamelessly changes into tight pants and clingy top that just begs for attention. He’s young and handsome and Bruce wishes he had never agreed to join them because it’s obvious he won’t be able to stop them. He claims feeling ill to get out of the rest of the night and avoid seeing what he knows will be a crowd of girls trying to buy his boys drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What traffic sign best reflects your life right now?


	52. Traffic Sign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What traffic sign best reflects your life right now?
> 
> No warnings. Featuring The Batfamily Boys.

“Where do you come up with these games,” Bruce mutters as everyone looks around as the sand timer keeps ticking down. It’s some type of voting game and winner is chosen by majority. It’s been two rounds and Bruce feels exhausted already.

“Don’t ask questions,” Dick says as the timer finally stops. He claps his hands. “Alright everyone, what traffic signs are we feeling tonight?”

Everyone flips over their notecard and Dick starts their circle. He’s done a kindergarten-level drawing of a “Danger: High Voltage” sign.

“That’s not a traffic sign,” Jason says, but the others seem to agree to give Dick a pass. Next to him Tim has neatly written three words: “Do Not Enter.” There’s silence. Bruce stares at Tim while Damian agrees that Tim is dead inside.

“Don’t say that, Tim’s just tired, right?” Dick coos.

“Do not enter,” Tim deadpans.

“Good choice,” Duke mutters as he shows off his “Road Work: Next 10 Miles”. 

“I should have picked that,” Jason huffs as he points at his “No U-Turn”.

Damian’s sketched an impressive “Stop” sign with his pencil. Despite it being only the third round it’s clear the boy will sketch out anything and leave the rest of them feel a little bad about themselves.

“Bruce…what is that?” Duke murmurs as the group crowds closer.

“Detour sign,” Bruce mutters because he, like Damian, had taken the prompt too seriously. His rectangular box isn’t very even, his arrow it’s lopsided, and his blocky letters are barely legible at best.

He’s rather ashamed when it’s clear all his boys vote for his out of pity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Think about the various roles you play in your life. If you had to give up all but one, which one would you keep?


	53. Role in Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think about the various roles you play in your life. If you had to give up all but one, which one would you keep?
> 
> No warnings. A/B/O and doctor fusion AU, featuring Bruce.

“Dr. Wayne?”

Dick winces a bit as his voice breaks the pattern of crashing ocean waves in the small white room in the maternity ward. There’s a cushy rocking chair occupied by single man. A white coat lays folded over the arm of the chair along with a light blue button-down shirt. The infant on the man’s bare chest whimpers a bit as the man lifts his head, blinking owlishly.

“Dr. Wayne,” Dick tries again, just a bit louder as he goes over to the noisemaker and switches it off. He watches as Bruce cradles the infant and tucks the blanket more firmly around it as he sits up, rubbing his eyes with his fist.

“Problem?” mumbles Bruce as Dick goes over and picks up the button down. He gives it a few gentle shakes then trades the shirt for the baby.

“Sorry, I know you’re on break but there’s a situation down in room 34,” Dick murmurs, staring at the infant that has yet to bawl as Bruce re-dresses. “It seems some mother came in with a son who broke his arm and is insisting you tend to her son. Jason’s been called in but it’s not getting any better. She doesn’t want anyone except you to touch her son.”

Dick ducks his head down and nuzzles against the baby’s head with his nose and a soft inhale. Pups this young smell like powder and milk, a scent that Dick and many others associate with safety and love. He indulges for just a moment before adjusting his hold and look at Bruce who’s already shrugging into his coat.

“I’ll deal with it, thank you Dick. Think you can take little Martha back to the nursery?”

“I’d love to,” Dick coos. “Sorry to cut short your snuggle time, Doc.”

Bruce shrugs as he reaches into the coat and slaps a scent-blocker back onto his neck. “Duty calls. I’ll see you for dinner, hopefully.”

Dr. Bruce Wayne is Gotham’s finest orthopedic pediatric doctor. He’s beloved by patients and employees at Gotham University alike, and not only for just his skill. The stories of Dr. Wayne are legendary across the various departments, and some of the staff know they’re in for a small treat when Bruce arrives at room 34. One of the security guards is on the scene and playing buffer between some harried looking hospital staff and an obviously upset mother. Her distressed alpha scent is unmistakable as Jason, the security guard, puts his hands between the parties as the mother reaches out threateningly at one of the nurses.

“Hey, we’re already here for one injury,” he warns lowly with a hard look at the mother. “Let’s not make it two.”

“Then get me Dr. Wayne!” the woman screeches, shaking furiously as Bruce easily puts the pieces together. In another life he might have made a great detective, and not just because Bruce has happened across this situation more than once before.

“What seems to be the problem?” Bruce calls, voice a mix of curiosity and light-hearted as he strides over. It’s clear the woman recognizes him in an instant as her entire demeanor shifts to relieved.

“Oh Dr. Wayne thank goodness! You have to help my son, he was outside and must have broke his arm when he fell and-”

“Dr. Barbara Gordon is on call in this ward,” Bruce says, looking over briefly at red-head who smirks a bit. “She’s a wonderful doctor. Is there a problem with her treating your son?”

The general area quiets down a bit; Bruce knows he’s being a bit short-tempered, but it’s warranted at the next words.

“She’s an _omega_ doctor,” the woman sniffs, like a curse. “No omega is treating my son.”

“For h-e-double-hockey sticks’ sake,” Jason breathes, not bothering his hide his annoyance as his throws his arms up and turns around briefly in a circle. “Ma’am, this is a hospital, you’re in the emergency room, dynamics do not exist inside here unless they must be considered for a patient’s medical treatment.”

“Let me guess,” Bruce says, dropping his volume though still sounding pleasant as his grin turns icy. “An omega’s place is in the house? With the pups?”

“Absolutely,” the woman says, almost pleading as she goes to Bruce. “I will not have some omega treat my son, you understand, don’t you?”

“I understood we’re going to have a lot of problems since you want me to treat your son, but you wouldn’t want some omega like me to touch him, would you? It seems we’ve reached an impasse, but luckily we have protocol set-up for this.”

Bruce nods at Jason. “Please escort this small-minded classist fool away and contact legal. Dr. Gordon, would you please treat her pup to the best of your ability? It seems the pup’s guardian is delaying medical treatment for no valid reason.”

“Oh I don’t know, are you sure my degrees are up to snuff?” Barbara whispers back before she winks.

“You get in there while I deal the fallout from legal,” Bruce snips back. He’s certainly not the first or last doctor to deal with dynamic-classist people, but he is notoriously fast for dealing with them. As sweet and level-headed an omega he is, he has no tolerance for anyone who looks down on anyone else because of dynamics.

He hesitates a bit longer as Jason takes the alpha way while Barbara heads into the room where there’s no doubt a scared and hurting pup who needs her attention. When it’s clear he’s no longer needed, not that he was in the first place, he goes back up to the nursery.

“Back again so soon, Dr. Wayne?” asks one nurse as he waves at some familiar faces, including Dick.

“I’m still on break,” he replies as Dick reaches into a crib and plucks up a baby, handing it over to Bruce who smiles.

“Go, cuddle, relax,” Dick instructs as Bruce fusses a bit before he had the hold he wants. Besides being notoriously intolerant of the intolerant he’s a menace in the nursery. Whenever he gets the chance he takes any infant that needs some extra attention. It’s common to find him holed up in one the quiet bonding rooms with a pup, sometimes napping and other times spinning wonderous tales about a dark knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What do you do, even when you do not feel like it?


	54. When You Do Not Fee Like It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you do, even when you do not feel like it?
> 
> No warnings. Featuring (hardcore crushing and going for it) Barbara, and (she is like a daughter to me) Bruce.
> 
> Specifically inspired by the 90's Batman: The Animated Series.

It’s hard for Barbara not to squeal in delight as Dick and Alfred disappear down the gangplank to the plane that will whisk them away to the Bahamas for a week. Despite the din in the gate she can hear Bruce sigh deeply as he stops waving to rub at the back of his head.

“Nervous already?” she teases, leaning up a bit and tilting her body to look up at him. He’s dressed down, still quite nicely, but casual. His expression is open as he laughs a bit.

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

“Not a chance.”

Barbara slips her arm around Bruce’s and leans against him as they continue to look around the gate that continues to empty. While Dick and Alfred are away on their tropical vacation, Jim has gone north for a very overdue trip of his own. It leaves Barbara with the perfect excuse to stay with Bruce for the week, and she’s only a little guilty that the real intention for rooming at Wayne Manor is about as far from friendly as could be. Realistically Bruce it out of her league, but Batgirl’s been doing well the past weeks and Barbara just couldn’t pass up the chance. A week staying with Bruce at his place, without any butlers or sons? It was a girl’s dream come true.

“Come on, before Dick comes running back,” Barbara says, tugging gently. “Or before Alfred changes his mind.”

Her heels click on the floor as they start to head off towards the parking garage while her skirt, just recently hemmed, swishes against her thighs. Normally she’d get a couple looks but everyone they pass is too busy to eye her, thinking about getting to the right terminal or worrying about luggage or any number of things. The one person she wants to stare at her legs, or the fitted top she wears, doesn’t seem to have noticed at all. She’s disappointed, but not surprised: contrary to popular belief Bruce doesn’t see everything, isn’t some infallible Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

Barbara loves her kitchen, if only because she knows where everything is. It takes a good five minutes for her to locate a skillet and non-stick spray at Wayne Manor, and then another two to find a carton of eggs in the overstocked fridge. Her plans on surprising Bruce with breakfast in bed take a detour and she’s thankful she had a contingency in place when the man in question slowly walks into the kitchen. The first thing she notices is that he still looks half-asleep, eyes barely open. The next thing she notices is that he’s wearing a somewhat loose-fitting t-shirt that’s just short enough to show a hint of purple underneath.

“Morning Bruce,” she calls softly, resisting the urge to blush as she arches her back just a little more at the stove as she mixes her eggs. On the chance that Bruce did make it down before she could finish she knew she had to be seen and make a good impression. Lingerie would have been overkill, what she normally wore to bed wouldn’t send the right message, but she thinks the pink silk top and matching shorts with ruffles are the perfect mix between flirty and practical. The shorts are just barely shorts and the top plunges deep with just a simple tie up by her collarbones.

Bruce freezes up. He starts to blink as he stares at Barbara who turns a little more towards him as she tips her head to expose a bit more of her neck and maybe draw his gaze to the somewhat generous amount of unsupported cleavage on display. “I hope you liked scrambled because that’s what I’m making.”

It’s a picture-perfect moment when Bruce’s brain obviously makes the right connections. His jaw opens a bit, his eyes rake up Barbara with widening eyes, then he abruptly grabs the front his shirt and pulls it down like an embarrassed boy in a middle school locker room. He shouts something that Barbara can’t quite understand as he makes a quick exit. It takes about another three seconds before she hears him shouting “pants”.

* * *

“It’s not funny,” Bruce hisses into the phone that afternoon to Dick. “I don’t want to have her here anymore but I can’t just send her home! I promised Jim I’d babysit, keep an eye on her.”

“She’s a young lady, Bruce, she’s not some toddler you can just order around,” comes the amused reply.

“Don’t remind me,” mumbles Bruce as he drags a hand over his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What do you think is the most important question in life?


	55. Most Important Question in Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think is the most important question in life?
> 
> No warnings. Featuring, Jason, Roy, and Dick.

“I dare you to do it,” Roy whispers. “We can finally answer the most important question in life if you do it.”

Jason snorts a bit as he twirls a coin along his knuckles. They’re sitting in Dick’s loft on the couch as Dick goes through his workout. The black earbuds rendering him deaf to the world outside his itunes are easily spotted as he goes through a series of poses that Jason thinks are supposed to help his hamstrings.

“I can leave that question unanswered. I’ve died once already.”

“But haven’t you always wondered?” Roy presses as he puts his chin on Jason’s shoulder. “There are no witnesses besides us here.”

“No plausible deniability.”

“But Dick may not actually kill us. Come on, it’s the perfect chance! He’ll be pissed sure, but we’ll win him back with pizza and his favorite movie.”

Dick bends one leg, keeps the other straight, then folds forward. He’s in all black and sweating lightly, eyes far away and likely day-dreaming.

“We’ll have to cuddle with him all night,” Jason murmurs, sounding more thoughtful. “And one of us might have to stay the night.”

This time it’s Roy’s turn to snort as he rests his head down to look at Dick without breaking contact with Jason. “Oh no, I’ll have to be Dick’s personal body pillow for a night, how terrible.”

They go back and forth a bit more before Jason nods. He clenches the coin in his fist then stands up without warning. The stretching he does is only partly show before he walks to Dick to get his attention. Dick pulls out one earbud.

“Yeah?”

“What’s that one stretch you do for that splitty shit? Dead frog? Like you’re on all fours but then you kinda let your knees go out?”

Dick blinks a bit as he dabs his forehead with his wrist before dropping. Jason moves away and goes behind Dick who slips into the position easily, leaving his entire back vulnerable. Before Dick can say a thing there’s a sharp, quick pain against his rear. He yelps and slaps a hand over the smarting area as Jason howls with laughter. Roy rolls around on the couch, unable to make a noise.

“Did you hit me?” Dick demands as he gets to his feet with a slight pout. “That hurt.”

“We have just answered life’s most important question,” Roy gasps weakly.

“What?”

“Can you bounce a nickel off that ass,” Jason explains with a wink. “The answer is yes, oh yes you can.”

The bruises he gets when Dick beats him with his escrima sticks are worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- In what way are you strong?


	56. In What Way Are You Strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In what way are you strong?
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Bruce, Oliver, Jason, and Roy.
> 
> Do you remember when in middle school there'd be field day, which was pretty much the best day ever because of no classes and playing outside all day? My school would have Team Blue and Team Gold, and I always wanted to be Team Gold.

Field Day is one of the few weeks that all of Gotham looks forward to. Despite the many companies that assist from brain-storming sessions, to fundraising, to making sure that the various locations with array of activities are properly run, it’s always Wayne Enterprises that gets the spotlight. Most years Bruce Wayne takes the cake with his various feats of non-existent athletic skill. The big news stations generally get a solid 5 minutes worth of his top failures and bloopers.

There was the year he was put into a swimming relay race with various other employees, and only when the race started with him clinging to the side of the pool in a black wetsuit did he admit he couldn’t actually swim. Another year he’d run the wrong way at a softball game against the Daily Planet and “accidentally” took out the third baseman. That incident had made headlines for weeks because the third baseman, despite being the apple of the Daily Planet’s eyes with a sweet Kanas accent and country boy disposition, was built line a linebacker. Clark Kent didn’t stand a chance when Bruce Wayne, thankfully a man in the same weight class, tackled him in what was apparently an attempt to slide. While Bruce does not do well in common athletics he is good at lifting things. Those around him in fear for their safety of Another Wayne Mishap are grateful.

That afternoon in Gotham Stadium that has been taken over for participants and spectators alike. Bruce and a few other challengers are set up on top of a stage. There’s extra attention as the ongoing feud of Wayne versus Queen is joined by two sons in the forms of Jason and Roy. While neither may be biologically related to their fathers the four make for quite the intimidating sight.

“It’s like a muscle fest,” Dick comments dryly around his straw as he, Tim, and Damian stand down in the crowd to watch. The challenges themselves aren’t spectacular, but the weight of the items are. Slowly but surely other participants drop out when they can’t complete the task while Bruce, Jason, Roy, and Oliver remain looking only slightly winded after their latest task of push-ups with extra barbells on their backs. When a pull-up rig with single horizontal bars gets pulled out onto the stage and the announcer asks for suggestions for the final four the comments pour in.

“Bet I can lift more than you,” Jason says to Roy as they wait for the crowd to calm down.

“Bet you can’t,” Roy replies as Bruce and Oliver inspect the rig. Bruce laces his hands down by his thighs with a confused expression after Oliver says something and almost falls over when Oliver kicks out of the handhold to get to the bar. Oliver adjusts his grip then calls for Roy who walks Bruce away by his shoulders much to the relief of the announcer.

“Looks like Bruce is getting put in the safe zone as Team Queen starts us off.”

“Bet you can’t lift Roy’s fat butt,” Jason calls with a wave.

“You’re on,” Oliver calls back. He hangs by just his arms as Roy gets under him then grabs onto his legs. It’s quite the feat of raw strength as Oliver lifts not only his weight by also Roy’s. He makes five reps then has Roy drop before he follows. The two bow to applause as Jason bristles up then storms to Bruce.

“Come on, you’re way fatter than Roy is,” Jason mutters darkly. He jumps up to get the bar then gently kicks at Bruce who tries to push his legs like a swing. “No, you just stand there. No, turn around. Step back. Little more. Good. Now jump and brace your arms.”

Bruce does as instructed and starts to grin as his arms lock on Jason’s thighs which move parallel to the ground. He tilts his head back at Jason who tells him to tuck up his legs. Bruce complies, then grins as the crowd goas ballistic while Jason starts his pull-ups.

“Let’s. See. You. Lift. This. Weight,” Jason grunts out as he struggles upwards while Bruce claps his hands together.

“My boy’s so strong,” he coos at the announcer who looks stunned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Complete this thought: “Someone really needs to design a better…”


	57. Design a Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Complete this thought: “Someone really needs to design a better…”
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Father-Son bonding Clark & Jon, Bruce & Damian. 
> 
> I am actively writing on prompt#146 but this is one of my all-time favorites.

“Oh wow, we’re really staying here?” Jon cries as he pushes himself over the center console of the sedan as Bruce insistently taps the paper folding map while Clark drives.

“Jon, sit,” Clark orders. “Bruce, you’re sure?”

“We’re staying in cabin 69 which is on the corner and that cabin is on the corner and has a big 69 on the front so yes, I’m sure,” Bruce snaps.

“So cool,” Jon breathes as he sits back down while Damian, the only other person in the backseat, rolls his eyes.

Camp Lake-Shore is the epitome of middle-class New Jersey campgrounds. It’s the careful balance of woodsy yet not overdeveloped, a dip into nature without needing any actual survival skills. It’s located somewhat inland, about a twenty minute drive from any of the local shore points. The main road turns to gravel down the various sideroads that leads to the campsites and cabins. Clark pulls into the parking spot in front of the cabin that is going to be their base for their shared Father-Son bonding weekend.

“Boys, suitcases,” Bruce says somewhat gruffly as they all slowly start to get out of the car. He already has the keys to the cabin as heads up the steps while Jon stares.

“Pa, it’s huge!”

“It really isn’t,” Damian whispers, more so to himself. It’s a cabin, complete with bathroom, kitchen, and loft.

“It is big, isn’t it?” Clark agrees as he pops the trunk. Jon continues to babble excitedly as he looks around, like the couple trees and bushes and campsites are something new and exciting.

There’s a comment about Jon’s childish enthusiasm that Damian wants to make, but even he knows a losing battle when he sees it. No amount of complaining or nasty remarks will save him or his father from this 3-day, 2-night disaster. Both had tried and failed for weeks to get out of camping, and both know that their whole family will not contact them except for end-of-the-world situations, and even then there would be a delay to make sure the Justice League couldn’t handle things first.

“Don’t be such a sourpuss, you haven’t even given it a chance,” Jon murmurs as Damian drags his feet over to grab his suitcase.

“I would rather be tortured,” Damian hisses back.

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” Clark says, genuine as could be as Bruce emerges from inside. He looks a little less crabby than most of the drive down.

“It’s bigger in here than I thought,” he announces, sounding somewhat relieved. It’s enough to pique Damian’s interest. He’s never done this ridiculous camping that involves trips to Costco, advance packing, and plumbing. He has been thrown out into the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on his back and his wits.

There’s four steps up to get to the porch that is laughably easy with the suitcase while Bruce holds back the shimmery translucent curtain back from the door. There’s a couch in what might be called the living room, tiny round kitchen table, tinier kitchen that does boast a stove and oven. All the way at the back is a bedroom and full sized mattress and the smallest little staircase Damian has ever seen in his life that no doubts leads up to the loft that overlooks the living room.

“Someone really needs to design a better cabin,” Damian spits out as Bruce tells him to bring his things up to the loft. It’s already been decided the kids with share the loft while Bruce will get the bedroom and Clark the couch.

The loft is a surprisingly large, an empty stretch of carpet. While Damian can’t stand up he can sit up on his knees without hitting his head on the ceiling. Two sleeping bags neatly sail over the railing followed by Jon who starts to laugh as he lays belly down.

“It’s one big sleepover, isn’t it great?” he asks as he starts to roll around.

“Peachy,” snaps Damian as he pulls his sleeping bag over to claim his section. He would rather be anywhere else doing anything else.

“Hey.”

Damian looks over at Jon who army-crawls his way over with those almost unearthly blue eyes staring at Damian’s very soul. “There’s no need to be scared.”

“Scared?”

“This whole camping thing; I know it’s new to you.”

“Those space pirates two weeks ago were ‘new’ to me,” Damian replies, trying to keep himself calm as his already frayed temper slips further. “I was not scared then, and I am not scared of what people try to pass as roughing it.”

Jon’s face scrunches up. “You don’t like new things.”

“Not like this, no.”

There’s no use resisting when Jon hugs him from the side and nuzzles against his ear like a giant annoying puppy that has yet to learn about personal space. Despite Damian’s insistence this is a no-Kyrptonite trip. He has no real leverage. Instead he just goes rigid and hopes Jon can hear the sound of him grinding his teeth together.

“New things are fun, you just have to give it a chance.”

Damian doesn’t respond and waits until Jon lets go to dive over the loft edge for Clark to chide him. “No flying, Jon! Bruce, grab the cooler, would you? I want to get the meat in the fridge.”

It doesn’t take long until the car is completely unloaded and the food is put away. Clark’s duffle goes into the bedroom to stay out of the way along with his pillow and a quilt that is certainly a Martha Kent original. They take a walk around the campground after unpacking though Damian remains at Bruce’s side the whole time, one small hand clamped around the bigger one. He tells himself it’s because they’re in new territory and despite the Kents’ apparent ease there could danger at any turn. When Jon slides next to Damian and takes his free hand with a big smile Clark merely gives a laugh to go next to his own son and complete their line.

“So, dinner when we get back?” asks Clark who swings his and Jon’s hands. “What does everyone want?”

He goes through their list of options until it’s decided that they’ll have salmon. The ignition to the outside grill doesn’t work and before Bruce can get a lighter from inside Clark merely closes one and blesses all his years of control for a single burst of heat vision that sets the propane aflame. That gets followed by Bruce calling Alfred asking how long they need to cook the fish. Damian can’t help but stare as he and Jon sit at the picnic table while Clark and Bruce conference with Alfred since they don’t have any cedar planks to cook on.

“This is miserable,” Damian groans as he rubs a hand over his eyes.

“This is amazing,” Jon corrects. “Want to go on the playground? We’re going on the playground.” He grabs Damian and starts running off as he calls to their dads. Both wave distractedly as they stare at the grill with Alfred’s voice floating from the phone.

The playground is pedestrian but thankfully empty. Damian’s never understood the plastic and metal structures, especially not when one sign clearly denotes that he and Jon are overage. That doesn’t stop Jon from immediately jumping onto the rope net and climbing his way up to something that might be trying to look like a castle.

“Come on, pretend it’s a training field or something!”

Damian clucks but eyes a pole surrounded by a spiral. He ends up chasing Jon across the structures with a genuine smile that doesn’t fade even when Clark appears at the edge of the playground with a call for dinner. There’re roasted vegetables that look a little blackened and a big tub of potato salad. The salmon is overcooked and bland and Clark insists Bruce was really the chef behind their meal.

After cleaning up Clark insists on a campfire and s’mores. There’s a number of lawn chairs on the porch that they grab and set up around the pit. They get lucky when the sun drops that the bugs don’t come out. It’s quiet, and, Damian must admit, peaceful. Clark and Bruce trade softly spoken stories from their early solo years, and at one point Jon abandons his chair to squeeze on top of Clark.

“You’re getting way too big for this,” Clark mutters as his chair creaks ominously but holds as Jon grabs onto his father’s shirt and tucks his head under Clark’s chin. Damian stares a bit as Bruce suddenly excuses himself. The man returns and offers over an orange prescription bottle.

“What’s this?” Damian asks as he reads, unfamiliar with the script name.

“It’s a very strong sleeping aid,” replies Bruce lowly as Damian hands back the bottle. Clark and Jon pointedly stay silent. “It will essentially knock me out for 8 or so hours. I’d like to take some so I don’t wake up anyone tonight, but I don’t want to make anyone here uncomfortable if I’m unresponsive for that long.”

“That’s uh, a bit frightening of a description,” Clark says slowly. “It’s safe?”

“Yes. I normally wouldn’t take it, but tonight seems like a good night to be…knocked out for a while. I’m off-duty for the next 48 hours at least,” Bruce reminds them as he settles back into his chair. He looks right at Damian as the fire flickers and weaves. “Besides, I couldn’t think of a better group of people I’d trust to keep me safe. I’m on vacation, aren’t I?”

“I will ensure no harm comes to you, Father. Take the drugs, take peace in uninterrupted slumber,” Damian hums easily. It’s rare for his father to seek a medicated sleep, though he supposed he understands the draw of doing it that weekend. A night without patrol or cases would be good for little else but actual rest. Clark promises to be extra vigilant and Jon wishes Bruce sweet dreams.

“It takes about half an hour to make me drowsy, I’ll wait until eleven.”

At precisely eleven at night Bruce dry-swallows a pill then convinces Damian he’s cold. Despite the sweatshirts everyone’s layered up under Bruce wiggles his fingers at Damian who eventually relents.

“You are worse than Jon,” Damian hisses as he curls up on Bruce’s lap much like Jon. He stiffens up as Bruce puts an arm around him then relaxes. It’s only his training to tolerate Dick’s special brand of smothering physical affection that keeps him from bolting. He turns enough to be able to watch the flames as they all go quiet. There’s the faintest hum of crickets and far-off laughter from another campsite.

“Damian?” murmurs Clark about an hour later.

“Mhm?”

“I’m going to tuck Jon in, I’ll be right back, ok? It’s just past midnight.”

“Mhm-hum.”

Damian rouses himself from his dozing as Clark gets up. He’s fairly quiet as he adjusts his hold on his son and slips inside the cabin. He’s back just minutes later and stops by the chair Damian and Bruce share.

“Want me to bring Bruce in?”

“No, not yet, I wish for a few more minutes.”

Clark hums as he slides back into his chair, firelight glancing off his glasses. “No rush, whenever you want.”

Bruce has been out for about half an hour and Damian suspects another half hour will ensure his father won’t wake. It’s surprisingly alright sitting in silence with Clark who stares at the fire and occasionally pokes at it with a stick. Unlike his son he seems to know that words do not have to fill every waking moment. It’s companionable, enjoyable even.

“You may take my father inside, Kent. I fear for his cervical spine.”

Clark barely suppresses a chuckle as he stretches his arms over his head. “If that’s your way of fearing for your Pa’s neck, alright then.”

“I believe I will retire as well.”

“Sure thing.”

Damian slips off and watches as Clark eases Bruce up with care. He gets the door for them and doesn’t bother with any of the inside lights as he goes to pull down the blankets. Bruce gets settled down and Damian tucks the blankets under his arms without a single response.

“Don’t hate me for what I’m about to do,” Clark whispers as one knee and hand dig into the mattress so he can lean over. His other hand reaches out before he softly pats Bruce’s head. “Night Bruce.”

Damian stares then repeats the action himself. “Goodnight, Father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What is the last thing (or one of the last things) you searched for on the Internet? Why?


	58. Searched the Internet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is the last thing (or one of the last things) you searched for on the Internet? 
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Damian/Jon.

Damian wipes his Google search history doubting that Dick or Tim could find his last few queries even if they tried. Despite being a junior in college he still can’t trust that there aren’t extra eyes watching over him under the guise of “just keeping you safe”. He closes his laptop then goes to the small stack of papers on top of a sketch book for his human anatomy and figure class. It’s halfway through the semester and he’s thoroughly reviewed the instructions and examples for the final project. The final project will be a compilation of weeks using live art models, both in and out of the classroom. Despite the small list of models students can contact to set-up sessions with Damian has no intention of using any of them.

That night when he and Jon drink down their routine post-patrol shakes in Damian’s bedroom he brings out his sketchbook and the final project sheets. He nudges them over to Jon who hums interest.

“What’s this?” he asks, wiping away the condensation on his hands to his pants so not to ruin the paper.

“You are aware of my, what do you call it, sketching class?” Damian replies with a smile, forcing himself to stay calm. His tone is easy, teasing, as Jon looks at Damian briefly with a grin of his own.

“The formal title’s too long, but yes, I know about your sketching class. This looks like a pretty big project.” Jon flips through more pages.

Damian explains the final project though Jon could speedread everything in seconds, then immediately gets to the point though is voice is soft. Though he loathes the phrase, it is apt for his situation: it is easier to catch flies with honey. “I’d like you to be my subject for this project.”

“What?” Jon freezes up to stare at Damian who leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“Should I repeat myself for you?”

“No, I…why me?”

It’s not hard to read how uncomfortable Jon is as he drops the papers and lifts one legs up to get his foot on the bed to get his arms around his knee.

“Why not you? You are my friend, and I believe it would be a good use of time outside our nightly activities.”

Jon shrugs his shoulders a bit as Damian moves over until they’re touching shoulder to hip. He waits a few seconds then lets his head drop onto Jon’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, let’s the idea sit for a few minutes before nudging Jon’s arm with a single finger.

“Well?”

“I’m not a model,” Jon starts slowly. “I’m not handsome or anything like that. Why’d you want to draw me?”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Jon.”

“That…sounded like a pass at me.”

This time Damian shrugs a bit but doesn’t deny it. He and Jon have circled around each other for years, and while they haven’t done half the things Dick’s suggested, they have done more than what just friends would do. Each and every time they’d then just move on like nothing had happened. It’s probably the first time in a while that neither of them have denied it, even if it is just flirting.

“You would be an attractive subject, regardless of what you think about yourself,” Damian murmurs. “We could spend more time together, and unlike if I was sketching other subjects, I would not be opposed to conversations during our sessions. I’m sure we could find something to talk about.”

* * *

It takes numerous sessions over various weeks until Jon really settles into being a live art model. Damian makes a full effort from the start to make Jon happy and comfortable, and doesn’t hesitate early on in asking Jon to lose his shirt. Jon blushes the first time though it lessens each and every time after. By halfway through their time together on the project Damian can find Jon waiting in just boxers on his bed for their sessions, though it’s clear by Jon’s expression he’s lost any confidence he’s gained.

“No smile for me today?” Damian whispers as he shuts then locks his bedroom door. While he lives alone and has never had privacy issues with unexpected guests dropping by, it’s particularly important that he be sure they are not interrupted. The reasons are many, not least because Damian still greets Jon with a gentle kiss that Jon pouts into.

“I know I said on Monday I’d be ready for the nude modelling part of you project but I’m having second thoughts,” Jon says in a rush as he hugs the pillow to his chest tighter. While he’s down to just underwear the prospect of taking it off has him terrified, not solely because he’s never been naked in front of his new boyfriend.

“Why?” asks Damian quietly as he folds his legs and sits on his floor, dropping his bag as he goes.

Jon hunches over further and looks away. “I know you said we’d start slow, that I could pick a position I liked, but I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Alright. I won’t force you into anything you don’t want to do, Jon, nevertheless something so sensitive as this.”

“I’m just not comfortable with it anymore, I’m sorry Damian.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Jon, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I was supposed to help you with your project though,” Jon bemoans.

Damian merely shrugs. “I wanted my project to be filled with you, but I will just have to have other models to fulfill the requirements you would rather not do yourself.”

If anything Jon frowns even further as his voice drops. “I don’t want you using other nude models for this project.”

“Jealousy?”

“You’re my boyfriend.” The possessiveness is clear in Jon’s voice.

“Yes, but you know I would never betray you like this.”

The conversation is short, but meaningful. By the end Jon is more dressed, but gets the benefit of cuddling with Damian who says a day of delay on his project won’t hurt.

“While I won’t force you into anything, that does not mean I can’t try to convince you otherwise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- What do you love doing that you wish you could get paid for?


	59. Wish You Got Paid For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you love doing that you wish you could get paid for?
> 
> Warnings: non-explicit adult content, dirty talk. 
> 
> Featuring Slade/Dick.

Dick pants into the fluffy hotel pillow and tries to bask as the last of his orgasm fades away while his partner tosses up the stained sheet over them. There’s no doubt in Dick’s mind now that they’ve stopped moving they’ll get chilled, or at least he knows he will. One hand strokes softly over his bare hip as Dick tugs the sheet over his shoulder to tuck it under his chin as a slightly sweaty, warm body spoons up behind him.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Slade asks quietly, breaking his usual tradition of silent cuddling.

“I wish I could get paid for this,” Dick breathes as he presses his face more into the pillow as he stretches out everything from his waist down. His thighs are just barely shaking from the strain he’s put them through, but if he plays his cards right he might be able to wrangle a massage from Slade before they actually go to sleep.

“Get paid for what? Being a Grade-A slut?” Slade murmurs against Dick’s neck with a hint of teeth that sends Dick shivering.

“Yes, well no. I mean get paid for having sex.” It’s been a long day and however pleasurable his night has been the hours have dragged on. He’s exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally, and words are getting hard. The hand on his hip slips to his lower stomach and teases along the line of hair under his bellybutton. It makes Dick gasp quietly while Slade laughs just a bit, inches away from his ear.

“It’s called prostitution, pretty bird, and boy howdy I think you’d make a killing.”

“Slade oh my god, stop, that’s not what I meant.”

Dick tries to turn away from Slade who shushes him. Despite Slade’s reputation, a rightful one at that, he can do gentle and sweet and whatever else that makes Dick melt. On the nights he doesn’t just skip out while Dick passes out he likes to see the fierce and powerful Nightwing turn into a kitten.

“If you sold your body I’d be the highest bidder,” Slade whispers lowly as his hand traces under the sheet to the back of Dick’s thigh. There’s enough sweat that he can dig his thumb into the muscles there then run a line down to the knee. It earns pleased hum from Dick who presses backwards just a bit.

“If I let you keep talking about this I want a massage,” Dick groans. “Alright?”

“You’d be such a wonderful whore, Dickie, I can picture it now,” Slade continues as he uses his nails to gently scratch upwards. “Something sheer, and lacey. Maybe blue, you’ve always looked so nice in blue.” He walks his fingers up and over Dick’s hip to inch inwards between those legs while Dick clamps his thighs shut.

“Do I need to be alarmed at apparently how much thought you’ve given this? Should I start charging you?”

That earns a slap that makes Dick yelp. “You start charging me for using this beautiful ass and I make sure the whole world knows you can indeed put a price on it.”

Dick rolls around to face Slade and frowns, but Slade can’t help but smile at the pretty pout and tired eyes. The man’s exhausted, that much is clear. “You couldn’t afford me, Slade.”

Slade hums thoughtfully as his thumbs over Dick’s bottom lip then kisses his forehead in a gesture that could only be described as tender. “You’d give it to me free and you know it. But let’s not fight tonight. You want a shower?”

“Yes please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- In what way are you selfish?


	60. In What Way Are You Selfish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In what way are you selfish? 
> 
> Part 1 (before the break)- no warnings, featuring Bruce and Jason.
> 
> Part 2 (after the break)- warnings: non-explicit smut, featuring Jason/Tim.

“B? I don’t…feel too good all of a sudden.”

The teacup shatters on the cave floor as Jason’s grip goes slack. Steam rises up as Bruce calmly sets down his own cup then goes over to Jason who looks like he’s on the verge of passing out. He’s got most of his Robin uniform on though the glaring missing pieces are his belt, gloves, and domino. One bare hand reaches up as if Jason wants to rub his fluttering eyes but his fingertips barely reach his nose before Bruce gently grasps his wrist and brings it down.

“B?” Jason whines, voice pitching upwards as he slumps down further in his chair while Bruce gets down onto one knee almost in front of Jason.

“You’re alright,” Bruce says quietly, gathering both Jason’s wrists into one hand as he pushes his other hand onto the boy’s chest to keep him pitching forward. “I’m sorry, Jason, but I didn’t have any other choice.”

Jason groans a bit as his eyes slip shut for a moment before one cracks back open again. He looks absolutely betrayed as Bruce tries to give a reassuring smile as he slowly maneuvers Jason up over one shoulder. Despite hitting his growth spurt Bruce can still mostly manhandle Jason without too much effort. He totes Jason upstairs and into the teen’s room without a single concern that he’s breaking the “no uniforms upstairs” rule. He’s got most of the Batsuit on, but just like Jason is sans belt, gloves, and the cowl hangs limp behind his neck.

“Hate you,” Jason mumbles against his pillow as Bruce tucks him in, even going so far as to tuck the edges tightly around Jason’s sides as if he weren’t already weak as a kitten.

“I’m sorry Jay, but I’m being selfish tonight,” Bruce whispers as he finishes up then braces one hand against the mattress to lean over. He ignores the low warning growl he gets he ducks down to brush a quick kiss over Jason’s temple. “There’s still over a dozen victims still in the hospital; I’m not letting you add to that number.”

He gives in and smooths a hand back through Jason’s hair before wiping at the tears of frustration that try to race over Jason’s cheeks.

“Hate. You.”

“And I hope one day you’ll forgive me, but I’m not letting Scarecrow get the chance to get you. Don’t fight it, Jaylad, just go to sleep for a few hours, I’ll try to be back when you wake up.”

Jason huffs a bit that could either be his attempt to scoff or result of crying, but Bruce waits until Jason’s well and truly out before he actually leaves. He ignores Alfred’s judgmental stare as he pulls on the cowl just before he disappears down the stairs.

* * *

* * *

Good things come to those who wait. Tim never knew it could feel like a religious experience and he’s never been more grateful in his life that he decided not bone on a first date. It’s been closer to a dozen or so dates with Jason over three months and it’s the first time they’ve ended up in a bedroom. Most of their clothes are on the floor already and Tim is pretty sure their boxers are going to follow real soon, if Jason would stop mouthing and sucking at the front of his like Jason’s trying to earn some type of medal.

“Jason please,” Tim begs at the ceiling, hands up and over his head to clench into his pillow as his thighs rhythmically clamp looser and tighter around Jason’s head.

“Thought you said I could be selfish tonight, do what I want for once,” Jason purrs, tilting his head to one side and pressing a kiss to Tim’s bare thigh. He looks up, watches Tim arch, then gets a hand on Tim’s knee. It’s all back muscles as he lifts himself up and starts to nibble a trail from knee to groin, taking his sweet, sweet time. Tim’s skin is soft, and just barely covered in sweat. He’s wanted to do this since their first date, when Tim had shyly ducked into a goodnight kiss. Jason’s never moved so slow in his life, but it’s worth it. All the tension that’s been building for weeks is finally bleeding away.

“You regret letting me be selfish?” Jason teases as he dips his nose under the edge of Tim’s boxers to lift them even higher, exposing more skin as he moves closer to the prize.

Tim chokes out a “yes” that’s pitiful enough for Jason to take pity.

“You want me to stop playing?” Jason asks, patting Tim’s knee back down to free up his hands. He leans back just enough to use the flat of his tongue to trace up the damp patch he’s help create as his fingertips hook into the elastic near Tim’s hips. He inches the waistband up and down a bit, a promise.

“Stop playing,” Tim whimpers, breath coming out in a rush as Jason yanks his boxers down and off and immediately starts sucking him off. Tim enjoys a few seconds worth of relief before he’s scrambling away with a yelp.

“Condom,” he splutters as Jason frowns at him.

“What?”

“Condom,” Tim repeats, “I...Please.”

“But don’t you remember our sexy STD tests? Clean as could be.”

“I know, I know.” Tim bends his legs up a bit, hiding his erection as Jason sits up more. “I’m just…not so great with fluids. Even if they’re my own.”

Jason blinks a bit but shrugs. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- When have you experienced “heaven on earth?”


	61. Heaven on Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When have you experienced “heaven on earth?”
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Diana/Bruce.

“Bruce, this is amazing,” Diana breathes as she and Bruce step inside the ice cream parlor that looks like it’s come right out of a dream. The air smells sugary sweet as Diana looks around at the bright and whimsical decorations. It’s like nothing she’s ever seen before with the majority of the shop dominated by the product coolers. She slips one of her arms through Bruce’s and pulls him over to the nearest display with a big sign over it that reads _Sorbet_ in curly orange script. There’s various stickers on the glass that gives names and descriptions of what’s inside.

“This is amazing,” she repeats as she peers inside the glass and round containers with colors more plentiful than the rainbow. She lifts her head as there’s pressure by her wrist to find Bruce nodding his head.

“Ice cream’s over here,” Bruce offers. “And I bet they have soft serve too.”

“Soft serve?” Diana asks, letting her hands gently clutch onto Bruce’s arm as they head over to a new section. There another sign in black and white that states _The Classics_.

“Not hard, or not as hard as this,” replies Bruce as they stop before he looks around. “There, that woman in white by the window, she has soft serve.”

Diana tilts her head a bit then considers the display in front of her. She leans over a bit more and puts one hand on her hip as she looks, though she refuses to let go of Bruce’s wrist. “What would you recommend?”

“Can’t go wrong with vanilla or chocolate.”

“I’ve had those before, and as good as they are I believe I want to try something new.”

She walks slowly down the whole row with Bruce toted along. He looks somewhat amused by Diana’s decision to look over each flavor and even accepts a tiny spoon with the flavor of the day.

“It’s Fudge Overload,” the employee says quietly as Diana immediately tries her without hesitation. Bruce is a bit slower with his spoon, mostly to observe Diana who hums happily before breaking into a big grin.

“Delicious. I would like this, please.”

“You can go down to your right to put your order in, ma’am.”

“Bruce, do you know what you want?” Diana asks as she licks her spoon clean then puts it into the little cup for discard that the employee holds.

“I think I do.”

“Excellent, I’m excited to see what you are getting.”

She latches back onto his arm and keeps smiling as Bruce gives her a look. “We are on a date, are we not?”

Watching Bruce blush but nod is a scene she hopes to never get tired of.

The young woman at the register looks bored until the pair approaches. She looks at Bruce first, then Diana, then where Diana holds onto Bruce. The slightest smile breaks her face as Diana nuzzles up against Bruce which make him turn redder and stiffen up.

“We are on a first date,” she announces. “It took me weeks to wear him down to say yes.”

“Diana,” hisses Bruce, but the woman merely winks at the employee.

“He made the plans today. He knows I love ice cream.”

“And what can I get you?” asks the employee, looking a little more light-hearted than before in a way that just screams “oh look, new love”.

“I would like the Fudge Overload your comrade shared with me.”

“Cup or cone?”

“A waffle cone, please.”

The employee hits a few buttons then turns his attention to Bruce. “And you, sir?”

“Could I get a small chocolate milkshake please, with whipped cream.”

“How pedestrian,” Diana teases as Bruce pointedly ignores her to hand over money for their order.

“I’m not going to defend my tastes to you.”

They go down to the pick-up counter, grab their ice cream, then go outside under the red and white striped awning. It’s a sunny day, but not too hot. At first they sit across from each other, then Diana spies a young couple on a nearby table. She shifts her chair over to beside Bruce who doesn’t move.

“You’ve been awfully…affectionate today,” he says slowly.

“It is our first date, I thought physical intimacy would be appreciated,” Diana replies before digging her spoon into the mix of chocolate ice cream with fudge pieces. “Have I made you uncomfortable? I can stop.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Bruce blurts, and he sounds so uncharacteristically nervous. “I just wasn’t expecting it. At all.”

“It is nice to be able to touch you without any armor,” murmurs Diana, letting her voice drop as she rubs their shoulders together gently, only their shirts separating their skin. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you without any Kevlar.”

Bruce hums a bit as motion inside the shop catches his attention. It’s just a mother and child behind the lettering on the storefront that reads _Heaven on Earth_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- How do you act when you are afraid?


	62. Act When You Are Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you act when you are afraid?
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Damian, Dick, and Bruce.
> 
> Posting a day late due to weather-related panic.

"This is an absolutely horrible idea,” Bruce repeats as he waits in line with Dick and Damian on a cool October night out in the middle of New Jersey where farmland rules and cities are far memories. Despite the last of the sunset clinging to the horizon there’s already a few screams at the farm that’s been transformed into a Halloween adventure. Apparently the farm is well reviewed for being a good time featuring a haunted hay wagon ride, junk yard walk-through, corn maze, then three haunted houses of various themes. It’s not scary enough to warrant a waiver but Bruce doubts it’s meant for children under the age of thirteen.

“It’s a great idea,” Dick sniffs as he keeps one arm around Bruce’s waist and the other along Damian’s still slim 14-year old shoulders. Like father like son, neither are excited for their night of chills and thrills. “It’s fun and different and no one else will be able to say they got to go to a haunted house with Batman and Robin.”

“It’s childish,” Damian says blandly however leaning against Dick in a way that suggested he was utterly bored and off guard.

“It’s going to be fun,” Dick repeats as they shuffle forward along with the various other groups of families and friends. He and Damian look around the main store of the farm when they make it inside. Dick buys their tickets and tucks them away before dragging them further onto the property where the line for the haunted wagon ride is. There’s some type of DJ dressed like a reaper up on a platform and blaring music for the visitors while other performers wander through making conversation or getting cheap scares from unaware people.

“So. Much. Fun,” Damian deadpans as a zombie sneaks up on him and tries to scare him. He doesn’t so much as blink before the actor ambles off and gets a shrill scream from a young woman who jumps and clings to a friend.

“You have to let yourself be scared,” hums Dick as he reaches into the front of his hoodie then steps right up to Bruce. Damian watches, interested, as he spies a length of braided metal slither out from Dick’s pocket.

“What’s that?”

“Safety precaution,” Bruce bites out as Dick reaches around Bruce to loop the metal through his beltloops. Dick tightens it, affixes something to hold the ends together, and Damian’s eyebrows do arch in shock as Dick then pulls out what looks like to be a pair of handcuffs that he slips onto Bruce’s wrists after looping the center chain around the braided metal. The cuffs hiss gently then Bruce pulls his arms upwards, only getting a few inches before the motion gets stopped.

“You…this is a joke?” Damian asks slowly. “I should laugh?”

Dick, still smiling, angles himself towards Damian and flashes something shiny and silver at Damian. “Nope. I got a pair for all of us. I’m putting mine on after the wagon ride. You don’t have to wear yours if you think you’ll be alright.”

“You are going to go through this haunted disaster. Hand cuffed,” Damian says slowly as the looks at Bruce.

“I know it’s fake, but if a clown jumps out at me…well, instinct.”

Damian blinks a bit then shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Write about a good discovery you have made (big or small).


	63. A Good Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write about a good discovery you have made (big or small).
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Damian, Dick, and Superman.

Damian prepares to knock on the door to Dick’s en suite bathroom but stops before any contact can be made with his fist. He listens more carefully and the music he thought Dick left on in his room, perhaps under a blanket due to the muffled quality, is definitely coming from the bathroom. After a few more seconds Damian determines with upmost certainty that one of the voices singing is Dick. He crouches down and peers under the smidgen of space between door and tile. The angle is terrible but there’s the sound of running water that suggest the shower is going.

“Grayson?” he hollers before he starts banging the door, still with his cheek to the floor. “Grayson, are you singing?”

Damian does wince at the responsive yelp then distinctive thud of a body wiping out. He gets up and finds the door unlocked as he tries the handle. The door swings open, a wall of hot, moist air hits Damian face as he enters, and he goes over to the shower door to find Dick crumpled at the bottom.

“Grayson? Are you hurt?”

Damian cracks the fogged up glass door to get a better look as Dick continues to groan over the sound of some cheery pop song. The man is splayed out on the bottom of the shower with white suds flowing off his hair and over his body to the drain. He looks up, appearing faintly dazed.

“Dames?” he croaks out.

“Are you injured?”

Dick shakes his head a bit as Damian opens the door further and kneels down to help Dick up and out of the shower.

“I think just my pride, and maybe my elbow,” Dick murmurs, already cradling his right arm. Damian grabs the towel on the outside of the door and starts to pat Dick down who shuffles over to the sink. He uses the mirror to show his elbow is already red and swelling as Damian neatly tucks the towel around his waist.

Less then five minutes later Dick is back in bed with an ice pack on his elbow and Damian tucked under his other arm. He hasn’t bothered with clothes as Damian near audibly sulks. Just his posture is enough to cue Dick in, but his exceptionally careful breathing is the final straw.

“It was an accident, Dames, no need to worry,” Dick soothes. “Just maybe knock less…enthusiastically, okay? Not all of us have your iron-guarded instincts.”

“I am sorry,” Damian murmurs as Dick bends his good arm to hook across Damian’s chest to reach his hair to pet it gently. “I was not aware you would such a wonderful singer.”

“Aw, thank you. I just have a bathroom with really good acoustics.”

Damian doesn’t know it but he has no reason to doubt the little white lie. Weeks later he’ll find out the truth when Nightwing and Superman, without any sort of prompting, start a duet from _Phantom of the Opera_ at the top of Wayne Tower after a joint-mission. There’re no acoustics to be had in the open air that would make his voice sound that good. Robin knows Superman has his precise muscle control to do a terrifyingly good impression of Christine Daaé’s lines, but there’s no explanation for Nightwing as the Phantom beside talent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Are there any lines you simply will not cross?


	64. Lines You Will Not Cross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are there any lines you simply will not cross?
> 
> No warnings. Featuring Bruce and Dick (platonic father & son)

“Dick, no.” Bruce tries to keep his voice firm but gentle as he stares at Dick who’s ambushed him right after lunch in the hallway.

“Bruce, yes,” Dick replies back with an impish grin and cheery tone as he hugs a standard white pillow to his chest. He looks like he’s just rolled out of bed, messy hair and a tank top and boxers and Bruce really can’t blame him. It’s been a long, long week in Gotham, prison and Arkham cells alike full with the results of their work.

“No. Dick, just…no. I can’t, you know I can’t.”

“You can,” Dick murmurs as he walks himself into Bruce’s front and just stands there. “Don’t make me beg.” It’s practically a whine. Bruce huffs a bit as one arm comes up to hug across Dick’s back.

“It’s a line I won’t cross, chum.”

“Because you’re being stupid,” Dick says, a bit harshly. “You’ve overthinking it. You’re-”

“Dick, before you get upset, stop.”

“What if I’m already upset?” mumbles Dick, voice muffled as he nuzzles against Bruce’s collarbone.

“Go find Damian, or Tim, or Titus.”

Dick loosens his arms to drop the pillow which lets him drape across Bruce with an actual whine this time. “It’s scientific, you love scientific.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.”

“I’m your son.”

“And that is exactly the problem. You’re not a little boy, Dick, not anymore. It’s not appropriate.”

“Two grown men can cuddle and not make it inappropriate,” Dick insists as Bruce starts to back away. Without really thinking Dick jumps up to wrap his legs around Bruce’s waist while holding tighter onto Bruce's neck. He’s not tiny, but Bruce isn’t either. Bruce merely grunts as his body compensates for the new weight on his front to keeping them from toppling over.

“Dick.”

“It’s scientifically proven that skin-to-skin cuddling releases oxytocin and you are oxytocin deprived,” Dick cries and he clings tighter to Bruce. “I’m oxytocin deprived too, so we can be mutually beneficial to each other.”

In the end Dick wins despite Bruce’s protests. They end up in one of third floor guest rooms that’s so far away from anyone else it’s been called The Quiet Room. The bedding is fresh and smells faintly of lavender as Bruce lets himself melt into the bed as Dick shuts the blinds and pulls the curtains shut. The bedroom sinks into darkness. Next he lowers the temperature and the air conditioning kicks on almost immediately.

“You’re being surprisingly cooperative now,” Dick whispers as he sits down and tugs off his tank top. He drops it onto the floor then paws at Bruce’s shirt to pull it off with minimal fuss.

“I am resigned to my fate,” Bruce mutters, half into the pillow as he feels Dick slide behind him. “And I’m too tired to fight.”

“Good.”

Bruce winces and tries to edge away as Dick tucks himself against Bruce’s back like an octopus. He doesn’t get far before there’s a disapproving noise from Dick who then starts to breathe against the nape of his neck. One arm slips over his hip and tries to pull him back.

“Chum, unless you start crawling into my skin we’re not getting any closer.”

“Yes we can,” Dick hums back as he starts to fit one ankle between Bruce’s. Dick’s always been physically affectionate, even when he was little. He had no problem sleeping Bruce’s bed or sitting on a thigh at breakfast when he could get away with it. Hugs and nudges were common occurrences with around Dick, and the years haven’t changed a thing.

“Comfy?” Dick asks once they’re settled under a light blanket. He’s still plastered against Bruce’s back, but Bruce can almost feel how happy he is.

“Yup.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Write about a messy area in your home, workplace, or life.


	65. A Messy Area

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write about a messy area in your home, workplace, or life.
> 
> No warnings. Wing!fic featuring Dick and Tim.

“Tim, baby bird, when’s the last time you cleaned your place up?” Dick calls as he stops in front of Tim’s bedroom door on his way back from the bathroom. His blue-black wings flick in agitation. Tim’s bedroom looks like a storm has blown through, including an alarming number of golden-brown feathers strewn about. There’re a couple of mugs that are no doubt ice cold scattered around on all flat surfaces, snack wrappers on the desk, various mountains of folders and case files in massive, unorganized stacks, and the crowning jewel is the bed. The blankets are wrinkled and twisted together in a monstrous pile towards the foot of the bed with two pillows jammed up against the headboard. There are three massive cardboard boxes that look like evidence bins on the mattress.

“Timmy?”

Dick goes back to the den where lunch has just finished, empty cartons sitting on the low table in front of the couch. He can’t help but smile as he finds Tim curled up in the corner of the couch, dwarfed by his wings that he hasn’t quite grown into. One is squished into the couch while the other is tucked under Tim’s chin like a big feathery blanket. The feathers are dull and messy in some spots, glossy and perfectly groomed in others.

“Well, so much for binging that new show,” Dick murmurs as he stretches his wings out to counterbalance him leaning over the table. He picks up the trash and makes a few trips until the table is glistening after a wipe down. Next Dick goes into Tim’s bedroom with a frown his face as he collects the mugs and snack wrappers then tries to organize the piles. He moves the boxes off Tim’s bed to the floor which brings him close enough to determine the sheets haven’t seen a washing in too long.

“Tim why are you such a mess,” he murmurs as he pointedly does not think about the state of his own apartment as he stripes the bed down. He’s just finished his pile and is ready to drag the mess into the hallway where the washer and dryer are when there’s a gentle groan.

“What are you doing?”

“Timmy! You didn’t sleep long. You look tired still, your wings are all droopy.”

His wings are dragging on the ground, like they’ve gone boneless.

“What are you doing to my bed?”

“Cleaning! It’s really bad in here, Tim, honestly.”

Tim groans again but shuffles aside to let Dick pass with his bedding. He collapses onto his bed then flops his wings to their fullest span.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next- Write briefly about one thing in your life that is simple and one thing that is complex.


End file.
